The Otter and the Snake
by Ceye
Summary: Hermione must look to her intelligent, booksmart devices to break her way free from the Slytherin snake's grasp. Follows the events in the Goblet of Fire and on and fills in gaps in the books. Rated M for everything that rated M stands for.
1. Chapter 1

_**Ceye's note**__:Hello everyone, and welcome! This was written for NaNoWriMo. I do hope you enjoy the ride! First off..._

...

**The Goblet of Fire**

* 1 *

"I'm back! Oh, sweet Hogwarts!"

Hermione was beyond ecstatic to be back to a learning environment after a long summer at home; she had grown up on school and studying, and thus school was where she felt most at home. The enthusiasm of her friends, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, however, was nowhere near as tangible as hers.

Their fourth year was about to begin at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and there were already a number of events that had been planned for this year. For one, the Triwizard Tournament, an event that had not taken place for over a century, was going to be hosted here. They also had an…interesting new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor (who had already transfigured Draco Malfoy into a bouncing white ferret in the first day, earning him a good reputation with the Gryffindors despite his creepy, ever-swiveling blue eye) after Remus Lupin was forced to retire the previous year due to his being a werewolf now being public knowledge, thanks to a spiteful Professor Snape.

She and her friends had been terrorized on the Hogwarts Express, Hagrid had started them on caring for abysmal creatures called Blast-Ended Skrewts, and Harry and Ron were already in deplorable moods; despite all this, however, Hermione couldn't help but have a strong bout of intuition that this was going to be a good year.

...

_**Ceye's note**__: Now let's get started, shall we? :) Straight to the classes!_

...

As Hermione stirred, she watched Snape glide around the classroom to inspect everyone's work, focusing primarily on that of the Gyffindors. He wrinkled his nose as he scowled at the egregious looks and smells of the hopeless, haphazard confections his class had come up with.

Hermione looked over to Draco Malfoy at the sudden sounding off of his malevolent, evil chuckle. Follow his eyes, he saw that a very hysterical Lavender Brown was casting her puffy eyes in his direction and then crying over her cauldron. It was empty.

_Malfoy must've disposed of it all_, Hermione thought angrily. She would've said this aloud to her friends Harry and Ron, but they were both skipping Potions that day to work on their History of Magic essays, or so they claimed. Hermione was sure they just wanted an excuse to sit out of Potions, and that she would end up doing their essays for them with enough shameless prodding.

When Malfoy caught her staring scathingly at him, he grimaced, as if viewing a detestable rodent. She mouthed "You are disgusting" at him, feeling slightly awkward without the backup of her friends, and turned her nose up in a huff before he could mouth anything back. Cautiously she began gathering a bit of her potion into a vial before the bell rang lest Malfoy vanish the contents of her cauldron, too.

Hermione was upset. She knew exactly how it felt to have a whole period's worth of work thrown away because of a stupid prank from Malfoy. And she knew Snape wouldn't do anything about it, not with his Slytherin nepotism, so she didn't even bother to point out Malfoy's deplorable antics.

Snape, as if she had said his name aloud, looked her straight in the eyes. He followed her quick, angry eyes through each movement as they darted to Malfoy, and then to a sobbing Lavender and her empty cauldron. The frown in his face deepened further with each heave of Lavender's shoulders. Coming to Hermione's desk, his cloak swishing behind him, he peered into her cauldron. He then took a single look at the contents of Malfoy's.

"Miss Granger, remain after class," he drawled, not commenting on her work and averting his eyes again. This usually meant he could find no flaw in it but, being a heartless bastard, would not compliment it, either.

Hermione lifted her gaze and was unsurprised to find Snape scowling around at the room. Growling, she stood and walked around her desk to hand to him the sample of her potion, sitting back down in her seat afterward to wait for everyone to leave. She knew Malfoy was staring at her with glee, but she wasn't going to gratify him by looking annoyed by Snape's request.

When the room was vacant beside the professor and a single confused student, Snape's towering, batlike figure approached Hermione and he started: "Miss Granger, I must ask if my directions are truly that unclear, or does no one in your House know how to read?"

Hermione was taken aback. She thought for sure she would be scolded about scowling at Malfoy. "Your directions are very clear, sir. I think potion-brewing just takes a special kind of touch. But I certainly don't think it's just those in _my_ House who are incapable of producing an accurate potion," she added indignantly.

Snape ignored her last comment. Hesitantly, he went on, "Yes…you seem to have some grudgingly impressive skill in certain matters." He paused, eyeing her malevolently as well as a bit suspiciously. "And this is not the first time I've witnessed it. Your unusual prowess also surfaced in that essay on werewolves of yours I assigned when favored Professor Lupin was here, an assignment that everyone else seemed to have drooled on instead of written. I would have had a more tolerable time grading parchment ripped to shreds by hounds than I did mulling over whole essays sputtering nonsensical rubbish."

Hermione allowed herself to chuckle, despite the sinister expression on Snape's face. "To be honest, without having done that essay last year, I wouldn't have known Professor Lupin was a werewolf."

"That was my intention, but it seems you were the only student to have gotten the message."

Hermione, now flabbergasted at having been complimented multiple times by the hook-nosed and stern man she had come to associate with everything unpleasant, shifted in her seat.

Professor Snape went silent. He then turned and walked into his personal storage room, fumbling around for awhile until he emerged carrying something that appeared quite small in his clenched fist.

"I am simply curious to know if you are interested in more in-depth lessons of potion-making."

Hermione was taken aback, unsure how to react to such a bold proposal from a professor who had barely ever spoken to her, especially not kindly, before. She stood. "Professor, wouldn't that be considered cheating? If these potions are on our practical examination then I would have an unfair ad-"

Snape cut her off, scoffing: "I assure you, none of the recipes I would be teaching you will be included on the exam; they are far too complex for the fourth-year simpletons in my class. And I can be sure of this fact because I am, of course, the very one who makes the exam."

Hermione's face colored, feeling stupid. "Of course, sir." She looked at him sheepishly.

"Are you interested or not?" Snape snapped, clearly already surprised at himself by having asked the question.

The situation was more than curious. After having asked her to stay after class to invite her to harvest his more developed knowledge of potions in several personal lessons, Snape's already unnecessary defenses were up higher than ever. This encounter, to Hermione, rather than being seen as pleasant, seemed rather suspicious.

"Yes, of course, sir," she repeated, watching him carefully.

Snape opened his hand to reveal one small puffer fish eye. "Good. Then we shall begin."


	2. Chapter 2

* 2 *

Harry and Ron gabbed back in the Gryffindor common room, thankful for having skipped Potions to leave more time to start the History of Magic essay they had both been putting off for a full week (but mostly they had used the time to make fun of Hermione for not skipping). They both had half-assed written their introductions, but no more. The piece of parchment was due next lesson.

"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked, having expected to see her return after Potions.

"I dunno. She's probably up in the girl's dormitories," shrugged Harry. He was too busy focusing on what he was going to go about solving the clue inside his wailing egg for the next task of the Triwizard Tournament. As soon as the words left his mouth, he forgot both about the essay (again) and Ron's search for Hermione, spacing out, which was a tried-and-true, advanced tactic for figuring out what the next task would require of him.

But Ron continued to wonder. "Did she pass us somehow? We would've seen her."

"I don't know, Ron," Harry snapped.

Ron looked visibly affronted. "All right, all right, I'll just wait for her." He cowered back into his seat.

...

"We are going to attempt to produce a very…_valuable_ potion called Veritaserum." Snape laid the ingredients he had collected out on the desk in front of them.

"Already? Surely not even _I_ am prepared for that," said Hermione, not caring in the least about sounding like a boastful know-it-all to a teacher who already knew so all too well.

Snape's cold eyes met hers. "The key with this substance is patience, Miss Granger, both because its recipe is incredibly intricate as well as we won't even see the full results until a month from now."

"Yes, because it must mature through a full lunar phase, I know. I suppose there's no harm in trying, but I thought we would start off with something at a much lower level and build up to one like that."Expecting to be reprimanded for her continuing cheek, Hermione recoiled prematurely.

Snape stated, slightly exasperated, "You seem to be under the assumption you would be doing this entirely by yourself without books or an experienced Potions master at hand. This is not a regular classroom assignment, and it will not be graded. You have already shown you are ready for this, Miss Granger. I would advise you to stop complaining."

Hermione finally conceded and shut her mouth, not sure if she should acknowledge the compliment at the end of his diatribe. She eyed the clock, wondering if she could actually spare the time for these lessons each week. Inwardly, she scolded herself for agreeing without having thought it through first, but she certainly wasn't about to change her mind after already having accepted Snape's offer. She imagined Snape's face if she told him she now wished to decline, imagined the cowering fear she would feel at the previously unreached level of unfairness and hostility with which he would regard her in future lessons. Yes, the rest of her school schedule would simply have to make room.

"I'm ready, Professor," said Hermione, though not entirely sure that this was true. "How do we begin?"

He prefaced, "These lessons will test your memory as well as build your skill in brewing. As we progress, I will not always relay to you how to form each solution, and through repetition as well as variety, you shall develop a certain knack for simply _knowing_ how to effectuate each potion in its entirety."

And with that, their first lesson began, Snape relying directions from his head as though from a book, and Hermione listening studiously and obeying, stirring the cauldron or inserting this ingredient as per his instructions. While Hermione took her time to perform a few careful, accurate stirs, she asked, "Why Veritaserum, Professor?"

"My store has been running out of this particular potion, and I felt it a perfect opportunity to both get your lessons started as well as to rectify a…troubling inconvenience…that I've discovered. Someone has been stealing from my cupboards, and I intend to find out who it is."

Hermione's jaw dropped open. "And you _intend_ to do this through forcible questioning?" The mere thought was repugnant. She quickly regained her composure as to not upset the precise stirring of the contents of her cauldron. Once again, premature apprehension made her suddenly tense, awaiting the Slytherin Head of House's snide reply with mild fear.

Snape stated simply, "Yes."

Hermione was suddenly aware that she was holding her breath in the moment of tension. She let it out, trying her best to be inconspicuous as she did so. How embarrassing. "Do you have anyone in mind?"

Her professor did not answer. Hermione felt she knew what this meant. Whenever something bad happened to Snape that he could not explain, he had a habit of blaming Harry, even if there was no proof or chance of Harry having done anything wrong. She made a noise of frustration.

After a few minutes of silence (besides the occasional line of instruction or sound of a bubbling potion being stirred), Snape straightened up, and, almost as if reading her thoughts, replied, "I do not suspect a student."

Hermione jumped, but acted as if nothing had happened. "That's good. I hardly think a student would have had the chance or the luck to be able to steal from your stores unnoticed." Her suspicions about these lessons being odd melted away. Perhaps he did simply want to replenish his stores. That didn't seem strange. Having had her worry dispelled, Hermione inquired no further as to Snape's plans for the potion.

Snape nodded. They continued on in a reinstated silence, and as Hermione added the last ingredient, the Belladonna, and mixed it in with the rest of the contents brewing in the cauldron, Snape circled around the table and stopped on the opposite side, leaning down to inspect the Veritaserum's composition and quality more closely. Hermione was finished at last. She folded her hands on the desk and waited nervously for his expert analysis.

After a few more, anxious moments, the Potions master looked up at Hermione. There was only one word he could think of to describe her first attempt at Veritaserum.

"Excellent."

Hermione positively beamed at him. He blinked, startled at her candid expression, but nodded again and collected her potion. He felt pleased that his offer to give a student private lessons was not wasted on one who could not brew or was unenthusiastic, and also for the fact that his Veritaserum supply had been bolstered.

"Next time you will be preparing the same potion, this time with far fewer directions. For now, your first lesson is over," Snape dismissed her, turning his back to her and putting the new store in his cupboards to await maturation over the following month.

Hermione was elated. She walked out of the dungeons feeling more high-spirited than she ever had after Potions class. The question burned in her mind of why he would offer extra lessons, given that he seemed to hate students. She decided to drop it, however, for she certainly wasn't going to ask him about it, and wondering without much of a clue seemed pointless. Snape was a stringent and terribly grumpy man, but at least she could learn a thing or two from him.

When Hermione arrived at the Gryffindor common room, she was immediately accosted by Ron.

"Where were you?" he started, sounding annoyed. "I have that essay from Old Man Binns to write and I couldn't find you."

Even Harry laughed, which cheered him up. "That's why you were worried about her?" He did have to admit that he could use her help on the History of Magic essay just as much as Ron, though.

"Oh, is that what I'm good for?" she snapped, but she didn't feel nearly as offended as she sounded. She felt as if nothing could ruin her good mood at having produced the complex concoction that was Veritaserum almost flawlessly on her first go. Sighing for Ron's hopeless case, she sat at the table and, making it clear that she would only do one paragraph before he was on his own (but knowing that he would ask her to correct the rest of his essay anyway), she set to work, smirking to herself.


	3. Chapter 3

* 3 *

Over the following weeks, Hermione was becoming increasingly adept at brewing Veritaserum, now with next to no instruction from Snape. He simply surveyed her work, occasionally feeling as if he should correct her when her ingredients were about to be inserted in the wrong order or if her stirring was too fast, but she was getting better at righting herself before he had a chance to say much of anything. The Potions master was continually impressed, and each time Hermione glanced up to read his expression, she was pleased that his habitual scowl had slackened, as he now took their private lessons as time to read one of his various texts. Little supervision was necessary of the booksmart genius that was Hermione, after all.

...

There was another matter at hand, however. The Yule Ball was approaching fast, and Harry was no more prepared for it than when he had sworn to himself that he would be what seemed like an age ago. He had a partner, as did Ron, but they were in no mood to speak about the supposedly festive occasion. Their twin dance partners were going with them out of pity. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to be eagerly awaiting the ball, irritatingly optimistic about dancing and, of course, not worrying in the slightest about finding a partner who actually enjoyed her company, much to the boys' dismay.

"Who are you going with?" Ron impetrated Hermione for what seemed like the umpteenth time, but he didn't truly expect an answer since she hadn't given him one the past hundred plus times he'd asked. Harry abruptly slid down his chair at hearing this question, eager to escape his uncomfortable and incredibly inconvenient position located between the two of them.

Instead of gratifying Ron with a response to his question, Hermione simply sniffed, "Hmph!" When he gave her a dirty look, she shouted, "If you're so unsatisfied, why don't you just find someone _else_ to pretend to like you and have them go with you instead of pretending that I'm pretending that I actually have a partner to go with who likes me!"

Harry and Ron looked at each other. "What?" Ron mouthed, utterly discombobulated.

"You _do_ know the ball is _tomorrow_, right?"

The boys sighed. Ron looked especially discomfited. Harry was just as miserable. He had wanted to go with Cho, but she was already going with Cedric. "We know," they said in unison.

"But hey, Padma isn't that bad," Ron tried to assure himself. "She's kind of pretty. I could have done a lot worse, now, couldn't I?"

"Yes, Padma is lovely and all that, but _you're_ not even the one who asked her!" Hermione focused on their unashamed expressions for a second, then threw her hands up in the air in frustration. "Ugh!" She turned on her heel and left the boys looking dumbfounded after her bouncing brown hair.

"Where's she going?" Harry asked innocently, entirely used to her storming off like that.

"Where else?" his red-headed friend scoffed. "To the library," Ron mocked Hermione, in a terrible impression of a girl's voice.

"So what?" she spat, not turning around. She didn't wait for a response.

On her way to the library, Hermione slowed a few paces to glance out every other window, admiring the beautiful Thursday evening. She desperately wanted to go outside, to vent the frustration she felt mounting from encounters with Ron's stupid questions and Harry's irritability. Instead, she was inside, albeit voluntarily, off to study in a library that would likely be empty. She took one look out of the last window before turning down the hall, then continued forward, straight into the path of an oncoming, dusky figure. She stopped herself from walking into him only at the last second.

"Professor Snape!" she gasped, looking up into his face.

Snape, normally almost a full head taller than her, seemed even larger and more menacing up close. "Miss Granger," he said plainly in greeting. "Where are you going on this..._lovely_...Thursday evening?" His last words were dripping with caustic displeasure, as if being out of his cave and in the sunny daylight was this bat's worst nightmare.

"Just to the library," Hermione answered. She moved a little out of his way, but in her periphery found him still staring back at her. "...Is there something you needed, sir?" she ventured.

"My most valuable potions have been targeted. There has now been a tragic amount of store stolen from my cupboards. I almost cannot collect nor brew quickly enough to restock it." He remained standing resolutely in front of her. "Therefore, Miss Granger, you might consider continuing your lessons on Friday afternoons as well as the usual Tuesdays."

"Well, while I certainly wouldn't mind more practice, staying in the dungeons after double Potions would not only leave me with four straight hours of the same subject, but I would also be sacrificing my dinner, Professor," Hermione warily objected.

Snape scowled. "I never said you have to 'sacrifice your dinner'," he mocked. "You can have your dinner and then return to my dungeon, or you could do what's most logical and bring it there in the first place."

"I would be okay with just that, but that still leaves me with four hours of Potions to contend with, and I'm afraid the workload from Potions class as well as from others would be a bit much after all that." Hermione took one quick look at his imposing demeanor and added, slightly pleadingly, "Please don't be offended, Professor. I still have to make time to go to the library in the evening."

"All right," said Snape, stoic as ever, his countenance wholly unaffected by her choice. He walked seemingly through her, gliding past her like a phantom, despite her hardly being entirely out of his path.

Hermione looked after him, watching his dark, hovering figure walk briskly away. She wondered if her refusal was going to make Tuesdays awkward. She also began pondering about who could possibly be stealing from his stores again, but she hadn't the time to find out.

"I have to study!" she said aloud to no one in particular, having forgotten herself. Hermione quickly continued down her path to the library, intending on doing her last minute studying before taking the next day off to daydream about the ball. After all, it _was_ Christmas break, and she had already finished all of her holiday homework. She smiled to herself, happy in anticipation of the following night.


	4. Chapter 4

* 4 *

Christmas morning was beautiful. Hermione gathered in the bustling common room with Harry and Ron as soon as she woke up and finished opening all of her presents. After eagerly relaying what they all received, the three went down to breakfast together. They spent the day bumbling cheerfully about the castle grounds, though Hermione's good mood was for quite a different reason than the boys'. She disappeared into the castle at five o'clock, leaving the boys to their noisy snowball fight. They continued until seven, at which time they figured they had no other option but to get ready for the festivity they were both dreading. By eight, they were standing outside the Great Hall, meeting up with twins Parvati and Padma Patil and apparently quite determined to look absolutely miserable.

When Professor McGonagall's voice rang throughout the Hall calling the champions to her side, Harry tensed. He walked toward his Head of House, trying to seem as normal as possible, even though he felt he was about to explode from his merciless nerves vacuuming the pressure from his stomach and rendering him feeling completely hollow. As the procession of champions entered the Hall, Harry looked from face to face, curious as to how everyone else had prepared for the occasion and analyzing their attire to see if his suit was out of place. Concluding he looked rather normal, he relaxed a bit, until his eyes rested on a girl he had seen in his first survey of the room, but had only just now recognized.

"Hermione!" he mouthed, eyebrows raised at how different she looked.

Harry hadn't paid much attention to the champions or their dates, trying vehemently to ignore Cho's presence with Cedric, but he now had his eyes peeled, surveying Hermione's sleek, dolled-up brown hair and flowing pink dress. She was arm-in-arm with Viktor Krum, and she was gorgeous. Harry smiled to himself, temporarily forgetting his nerves.

The Great Hall was magnanimously decorated for the occasion. Huge trees full of icicles and snow stood at the far end of the frosty Hall, and the large, round tables lined up proportionally throughout the room had a single ice-sculpture-shaped lantern in their centers. Instead of being the usual mass of black robes, the Hall was full of ladies in beautiful dresses of every color and boys in more subdued yet equally fancy dress robes and suits. Harry and Ron were intimidated by the great lengths to which the staff must've gone to decorate the Hall like this. Its professional polish made Harry even more worried since, as one of the Triwizard champions, he was about to lead the rest of the students in a dance, and his footwork was anything but elegant.

It helped ease Harry's nerves that Parvati looked so stunning in the lighted Hall. She had donned her best dress for the ball and she shone like a bright light of her own with bangles dangled around her wrists, which reflected their light numerous times from the ice sculptures placed around the Hall. He hoped that she would hog all the attention from students' curious eyes so he would have the chance to make his inexpert dancing pass by without notice. In the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron brooding. At least he wasn't the only one not expecting to have much fun tonight.

After greeting the judges, the champions sat down at the table. Dumbledore ordered pork chops by shuffling through the menu and, after having decided on his desired dish, speaking clearly and directly to his plate. The students in the Hall watched his example and followed suit. Harry felt a bit queasy, but forced himself to eat something lest he collapse on the dance floor.

Harry heard a giggle. With his mouth full of goulash, he glanced up from his plate to find Hermione deep in conversation with Krum. He watched Krum's thick eyebrows narrow in emphasis as he explained to Hermione every impressive detail he could remember about the Durmstrang castle, though he was very modest about it.

Fleur Delacour looked lovely in her silver satin dress, but was being anything but elegant in harshly dismissing the Great Hall's decorations as tacky and low-tier. Roger Davies, Fleur's date, seemed to be able to concentrate on nothing but his stunning partner. Harry was heavily amused by Roger's stupid, gaping mouth.

At last, Dumbledore asked everyone to stand and raised the platform upon which Harry and Parvati would be dancing. The Weird Sisters clambered onto the stage, and Harry's heart sank. It was time.

"Come on!" Parvati hissed. She urged him to get to his feet.

Harry stood up, his heart racing now. He and Parvati walked onto the dance floor and, as The Weird Sisters began with a mournful melody, Parvati took control, seizing his hand and steering his feet, for which he was tremendously thankful. It was not nearly as traumatizing as he'd thought it would be. To his delight, many students who had been watching now stood and walked to the floor with their own partners, taking attention off of him in the process. At the last note, he immediately let go of Parvati and led her to Ron and Padma's table.

Harry sat down next to Ron and opened a butterbeer, eyeing Padma's jiggling foot and Ron's disgruntled expression. Harry turned to see where his best friend was staring and saw that Hermione and Krum were dancing in the distance.

Parvati was asked to dance by a Beauxbatons boy, and she accepted, looking personally offended when Harry seemed to take no notice of the boy. She did not return to their table when the song ended.

Hermione came over and leapt into Parvati's empty chair, beaming. "Hi," Harry greeted her, but Ron remained silent.

"Viktor's getting some drinks," Hermione explained.

Ron mocked her, "Oh, he isn't _Vicky_ yet?" Hermione was visibly affronted.

Harry tuned them out as they started to bicker, but was brought back to his senses when Ron insisted the only reason Krum came with Hermione was to get a leg up on how Harry was planning to go about the next challenge in the tournament. Harry attempted to make Ron see that he didn't mind Hermione having come to the ball with Krum, but it was useless.

Having had enough of Ron's jealous accusations, Hermione got to her feet and stomped off angrily across the floor, hiding behind the mass of people who now blocked Ron's vision.

Hermione was fuming with rage. How could Ron accuse her of "fraternizing with the enemy"? She was simply trying to have a good time and he didn't want any of it because he wasn't enjoying the dance at all! "It's his own fault he's in such a surly mood," Hermione assured herself, "I have nothing to do with it."

In the midst of Hermione justifying her partnering with Krum, Viktor himself found her and made a beeline toward where she was standing. "I haff vound you," he stated, smiling. He handed her a butterbeer.

At that moment, Fleur Delacour came over to talk to Krum. "Viktor, weel you dance wiz me?" She quickly darted her eyes in the direction of Roger Davies, her date. Roger was staring after her, drooling. Fleur grimaced. "'E 'az been like zat all night."

Viktor looked torn. He again met Hermione's eyes and finally noticed that she seemed to be a little off. His own dark eyes turned sympathetic. "Vill you be okay?" he inquired earnestly.

Hermione immediately tried to straighten up her apparently bothered visage. "Yes, I'll be fine, thanks. You two go ahead." She smiled, hoping he wouldn't continue to implore.

"OK," Viktor said simply, much to her relief. He strode off with Fleur, glancing once more back at Hermione before disappearing.

Hermione was fine with Viktor dancing with Fleur. She was determined not to be like Ron: a total spoilsport, green with envy and unable to think of anything but what irked him. Remembering Viktor's kind eagerness to make sure she was all right, Hermione felt butterflies again. The Yule Ball was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that celebrated the Triwizard Tournament, and she certainly wasn't going to let Ron ruin it for her. She watched the couples around her dancing, and suddenly felt in her improved mood that she'd like nothing more than to dance again.

Hermione excused herself through some of the dancing couples and escaped to the staff table where she could drink her butterbeer and wait for Viktor. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were on the floor, and she could see Hagrid's towering figure, but Igor Karkaroff was nowhere to be found. She put her back to the table and watched as those who were dancing moved in step to a new song. Hermione felt enthusiastic as ever, sipping her butterbeer quickly so she could get back in the action. She turned her head to look at Ron and Harry, but they had disappeared, too. Curious, she looked down her nose and saw Snape sitting in one of the staff chairs with his arms crossed, looking unaffected by the merriment in the Hall. "Hello, Professor Snape," she called joyfully.

Snape turned to look at her. He faltered for a second. Hermione figured it was because she had found him, a bat in a bright, festive hall, looking completely out of place.

"Miss Granger," was his reply.

Hermione drank from the last dregs of her butterbeer, and in the next second, a crazy, spur-of-the-moment idea shot through her head. She did really want to dance…

She moved closer to her professor and started, "Um, Professor Snape, would you, err…would you mind dancing with me?" Shocked by her own words, she immediately covered her mouth with her hand.

Snape's eyes shot wide. He unfolded his arms a slight bit, but remained wholly still otherwise.

Hermione was now flushing through several shades of pink. "I mean, I'm not sure if teachers are allowed to dance with students, but I saw Professor Dumbledore and he was…I saw him with…at one point… I mean, I don't know if you even know how to dance…" Hermione gasped. "Errm…that's not…_not_ what I meant!" she said, closing her eyes, shaking her head, and feeling beyond foolish.

Snape watched her as she babbled nonsensically. His eyes never left hers, and Hermione felt as if he was looking into the depths of her childish, girly soul. He rose.

"No."

Hermione was confused as to what part of her rambling he was responding to. Did his no mean he wouldn't dance, or that he wouldn't mind? But he stood up… When he offered his arm, she took it with a great deal of surprise, putting down her butterbeer. She had been sure he would refuse.

They walked out onto the dance floor, maneuvering through the crowd. Slowly, as they passed, several perplexed faces turned toward the infamous Professor Snape and his pretty, sleek-haired partner. _And I thought I had to dodge stares when I was with Viktor…_ Hermione thought to herself, feeling a little uneasy. They sped up.

People were gaping now. The clash of black and pink was as conspicuous in the Great Hall as the Weasleys would be in the middle of Africa. The two passed Professor Dumbledore, who looked up at them. The headmaster nearly fell over at the sight of Snape on the floor. "How delightful!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly and grinning.

Hermione couldn't see Snape's expression, but she was sure it was bothered and sinister. The music became an upbeat melody, but, out of tandem with the changing tune, Hermione wasn't feeling as sprightly as before. She tried to remain calm, but her worrisome thoughts didn't help this effort: perhaps he wasn't leading her to a better spot through the crowd at all…perhaps he was taking her out of the Hall to scold her for being so childish and having completely ignored the rules of the Yule Ball, or something equally unpleasant…

Snape finally stopped, as did Hermione in turn. She looked around. They were still on the dance floor, but they were now off to just a corner sliver of the floor in an almost abandoned area of the Hall, and they now had a hundred pairs of eyes on them; luckily, their view of Hermione was blocked by the batlike figure she held onto.

Hermione's nerves felt as though they were about to burst. Her cheeks had already exploded an almost unnatural shade of red. Snape faced her. She cautiously reached her hand up to grasp his, and made a startled sound when his hand touched her waist.

She was now entirely certain her face was about to have third-degree burns.

_Calm down_…_You knew that was going to happen…_

When they began to dance, Hermione held onto his hand for dear life. Shortly thereafter, however, she stopped worrying about those staring at them, for she had found she was floating effortlessly around her partner. Snape was remarkably learned. He didn't say a word, but simply stared someplace between her forehead and nose that somehow wasn't where her eyes were. His own seemed unfocused.

Hermione was elated. She had gotten her most stoic and uncaring professor to come out of his shell for a short period to partake in a Yule Ball activity, one he surely wouldn't have attempted on his own at that. If the rest of the evening was a total disaster, this one thought would comfort her.

Hermione was trying to compare Snape's dance to Viktor's, but the similarities were next to nonexistent. _They have two totally different styles_, she thought to herself. Viktor was more romantic and passionate, but Snape was more professional and accurate.

When the song changed again after only a few minutes of good fun, Hermione made a disappointed sound and dropped her hands. Snape, however, looked as if he was only switching position.

"P-Professor?" she inquired.

The song had become a slow, almost melancholy tune. As Hermione looked around her, she realized that people were converting to holding each other in slow dancing posture. She looked back at Snape, realizing now why he was switching his position.

Hermione was unsure, both about whether she should dance that way with Snape as well as if it was even allowed. Luckily, she caught a glimpse of Professor Dumbledore's flamboyant dress over Snape's shoulder. She tried to catch the headmaster's eye, desperate to get his attention, Snape watching her all the time. Dumbledore finally glanced in her direction, then did a double-take when he saw her waving her hand. He hurried over to her excitedly and asked, "What's the matter, Miss Granger?"

"Err, is it appropriate for teachers and students to…you know…" Not being able to bring herself to say it, she switched tactics and simply stated, "The song changed." She laughed sheepishly in spite of herself.

Dumbledore laughed, grasping her meaning. "Why, of course, my dear! I don't see why not; in fact, I believe I just saw Minerva teaching Seamus Finnigan how to position himself for this very special type of dance as well, and look at them now, happy as two peas in a pod!" he exaggerated, gesturing widely toward them. "Besides, it could be a good thing to have Severus cut loose," he said a bit more seriously, and winked at her.

Well, at least one of her worries had been alleviated. Hermione looked back at Snape. He had been quiet all throughout her chat with Dumbledore, but now placed his hands in the correct position on her, this time raising them a bit higher than one normally would to avoid making her uncomfortable. She looked up into his face, carefully avoiding looking directly into his eyes, but still wanting the dance to seem as personal yet casual as it would with anyone else. Instead, she acted supremely interested in the lines of his face, those that had so often scared students into submission by making him appear so angry all the time.

Dumbledore smiled at both of them, then walked off toward Professor McGonagall to leave them alone. The two began to sway slightly as soon as the headmaster had turned away.

As more students came nearer to the two of them, possibly to watch them (or maybe Hermione was just being paranoid), Snape stepped into their field of vision, shielding Hermione from onlookers. She wondered if this was intentional. The lack of much movement in this gentle dance made her limbs slightly cold, and she huddled more into Snape's long, dark cloak. He looked down at her, his lips slightly parted in an inquisitorial expression, finding himself no longer arm's-length distance from her. He took his right hand from above her waist, reached back to grab the edge of his cloak, and pulled it more around Hermione, keeping it there by replacing his hand farther back. She looked up at him, her lips pursed in an amused expression, and grinned as a "thank you" to him. Snape continued to say nothing, but was now looking directly down into her face, no longer avoiding her eyes. Hermione noticed at least one couple making it glaringly obvious that their only intention of being in the corner of the dance floor was to spy on the unidentified girl dancing with Professor Snape. This time, he was the one to pull her closer into his protective, black shield.

The room no longer felt chilly to Hermione, and she thought the aegis of his cloak was working: she couldn't see any stray eyes peering at her anymore. If they were watching her feet, she didn't care: her face was protected from their nosy, prying eyeballs. She relaxed as the song slowed further, and sighed almost sleepily at their gentle movement around their spot on the floor. She enjoyed how they were moving: it was so languid and unrushed. Hermione experienced a true restfulness, one she had never encountered even at night just before falling asleep. It was as if she was absolved of all responsibility, of all stress. It was a wonderful feeling for her habitually strained mind.

Then, what could've been a miracle happened: The Weird Sisters began playing a new and better song, but to Hermione's delight, it was still slow. She smiled: she didn't have to relinquish her restfulness just yet, could relish it for a few minutes more. Lightheaded and happy, Hermione's neck gave way a little and her head fell slightly forward onto Snape's chest. She kept her eyes slightly open, but all she could see was a screen of black instead of bright, snowy lights. Snape was now leading the entire dance, Hermione doing nothing but move infinitesimally when he did. She closed her eyes at last and spent the next few minutes in pure, quiet rapture.

Finally, The Weird Sisters were finished with their song. When no more played, she knew the ball was over. She slowly and reluctantly pulled away from Snape. They were still semi-entangled in his cloak when Dumbledore called an enthusiastic "thank you" out to The Weird Sisters. Everyone in the Hall gave the band a loud round of applause and began to depart amongst loud chatter. Hermione, remembering yet again her eagerness to not be recognized, poked her face out from Snape's cloak every few seconds to make sure no one was watching them anymore. When she was confident that people were now too busy making their way to the entrance hall to focus on her, she pulled back from Snape. She met his eyes. He was looking straight into hers, a novel, indescribable yet still slightly stoic expression on his face.

Hermione giggled and teased, "Thank you for accepting _my_ offer this time, Professor." She smiled at him, thinking merrily of the extra potions lessons he had extended to her.

When he said nothing, she looked at the clock. "Oh my gosh," she exclaimed, "it's midnight! I'd better get off to bed." Hermione untangled her arms from around him, at last brought back to earth. She rushed off before anyone could see her standing next to him. Glancing back, she shouted, "I'll see you next term!"

Snape remained where he was as he stared after her. Only after all but a few staff members, including the headmaster, had left the Great Hall did he finally make his way toward the entrance hall, his cloak billowing out behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

* 5 *

Hermione awoke the second day of the new term bright-eyed and bushy-haired, and even a bit early. She went outside the castle for a quick stroll by the lake, then headed up to breakfast, sitting down in her usual spot, where she expected Harry and Ron would be soon.

As if called, the boys came rushing into the hall and began shoveling food into their mouths. The week after Christmas, the two had had to settle down and finally get their holiday homework finished. Now they were absolutely exhausted. They ate in a hurry, having slept in again, and rushed down to History of Magic to listen to Professor Binns drone on for what seemed like ages.

As always, Hermione heard Professor Binns' every word with what appeared to the others to be exaggerated interest. Everything was back to normal at least, she thought. She hadn't heard a single word about Snape having a dance partner since a few days before the new term had begun. She figured those who had seen Snape with someone had simply forgotten about it, and smiled to herself, feeling rather relieved.

In Potions later that afternoon, however, it was clear she had been wrong. Though none of them would dare mention it to Snape directly, the other students were indeed whispering about their professor's suspiciously normal-person, non-batlike-nor-misanthropic behavior at the Yule Ball. Hermione's whole body suddenly felt tense as she watched Snape swoop to the front of his classroom. All whispering immediately died. As per the usual, directions appeared on the board and the class enlisted in brewing under the strict scrutiny of their uptight and unfriendly professor. Hermione commenced the brainless task, having had experience making much more powerful and intricate potions. Harry and Ron noticed Hermione's skill had grown exponentially, for now she was stirring without even looking at her mixture, and even looking bored. They looked at each other and shrugged, figuring she had just read the book a zillion times over as always.

When class was over, Harry and Ron waited for Hermione near the door. Hermione lied to them, claiming she was going up to the library in a moment, so there wouldn't be any point in them waiting for her. They believed her and left. When the room was empty, Snape spoke at last.

"Today we will be starting work on the Wolfsbane Potion."

"The one you made for Professor Lupin to keep him from transforming much of last year?" Hermione asked, though she knew the answer. She was fascinated at how readily a bit of liquid could subdue the effects of such a frightening ailment.

"Yes." He disappeared into his storage closet for a few moments and brought out the ingredients for the day's objective.

"You should have acquired a certain knack for knowing how and when to stir without being told; therefore, I will not instruct you when to begin. I will only tell you step-by-step how to insert each component." Snape placed the aforementioned ingredients in front of Hermione.

Hermione nodded, concentrating on his words. The first day of learning a new potion was naturally the most important, so she didn't want to become distracted.

Snape rounded the desk and started listing off directions, which Hermione promptly followed. This time, her professor was watching her more intently than usual, ready to pounce at any imperfection as soon as he identified it. When Hermione felt it was time to stir, she reached out and began to swirl the potion, nervously awaiting Snape to stop her and tell her she was doing it wrong. To her relief, he didn't. They continued on, Hermione stirring when she felt it was right, and the hovering Snape leaving her alone, seemingly not having discovered anything to criticize. He leaned down over her to peer closer at her concoction.

"I'm impressed."

Hermione jumped. His voice came from only a few inches above her head. Pleased yet unsettled, Hermione stirred her brewing Wolfsbane Potion after inserting its last ingredient. Snape reached out suddenly, making Hermione jump, and grabbed her hand, forcing her hand to swirl in the other direction. She blushed. "At least I had an idea of what was next!" she thought to herself.

When it seemed as if the potion was finished, Hermione settled back in her seat and waited for his analysis. Snape, however, did not say anything, nor did he move his hand from hers.

Worried, Hermione asked, "Professor? Are you alright? That was the last step, wasn't it? I did it right?"

He looked down at her. "Through the entire process, you made only one mistake." He paused. "You have essentially created the Wolfsbane Potion on your first try, as you have done with Veritaserum."

Hermione's face brightened. "I really feel like I'm getting a lot better," she agreed.

There was silence. Hermione felt like something was wrong. She turned in her seat and looked up into his face. His adumbral eyes were peering back into hers, penetrating them.

"Professor, is something wrong?" She stood up from her seat as to collect the potion and put it in his stores herself, but by standing up, she was now between his face and where his arm was leaning on the desk, making him appear shorter but closer. He straightened up, but did not step back from her, despite them being mere inches apart. She watched him closely.

"Follow me," he commanded. Hermione obeyed, tailing him into his storage room and watching as he placed her handiwork in the back of it. She looked around her. There were ingredients piled on shelves on the walls, and a large ladder was on her immediate right. She assumed he had used it to fetch the wolfsbane for today's lesson.

When he was finished storing her potion and started in her direction, he asked, "What do you think?" He gauged her reaction to his impressive collection.

Hermione blinked. _What does he mean, what do I think?_ "You…have a lot of potion ingredients, Professor." She couldn't help but lamely state the obvious; she did not know what he wanted her to say.

For the first time Hermione could remember, Snape smirked. She did the same, but sheepishly. They exited his storage and Hermione made to gather her belongings to leave before she interpreted his question in a different way.

"I also think you're a spectacular dancer," Hermione confessed.

Snape was taken aback. This was clearly not what he had meant by asking what she thought, for he seemed like he had no earthly idea how to respond to a statement like that. He was cemented to the floor where he stood.

"I'm going to put my books away and head to dinner now. Harry and Ron are probably waiting for me," Hermione said nervously, swaying on the spot, not knowing what else to say.

Snape nodded. "Very well," he said finally, not taking the opportunity as he usually would to lampoon her two closest friends. Something her words had made him feel had stopped him dead in his tracks.

Hermione just left the dungeons and began climbing the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, feeling rather embarrassed.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Ceye's note**__: Hello to my readers! I didn't expect to get such a huge following so quickly, so I thank you all for the pleasant surprise! A special hello to rapink79 and LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgirL from the UK and Sindre from Norway; it's lovely to meet you, and thank you so much for the reviews! How are ya? =3_

...

* 6 *

The rest of the week seemed to fly by, mostly due to Hermione spending much of her free time prodding Harry to get a start on working out his golden egg. When he finally told her he had a pretty good idea of what the next task was about just to shut her up, she believed him, looking positively delighted. Feeling accomplished that her nagging had perhaps had a hand in Harry's success, Hermione breezed through History of Magic, Charms, and double Potions in a stellar mood. She felt so overjoyed and clever after having such a tremendously productive day that she immediately headed to the library after dinner to get even more done, her spirits grazing the sky. Professor Flitwick was starting the class on Banishing Charms in the next few lessons, and Hermione wanted to spend this Friday evening getting a head start.

After Hermione spent some time reading through her text to get a decent grasp on the theory behind them, Banishing Charms didn't seem so imposing, and she felt ready. But after having tried to practice by herself for several minutes, Hermione was almost resigned to admitting it was hopeless. Charms class was not one that could normally be practiced for alone.

Just when she thought she was indeed alone, Hermione suddenly intuited that she was being watched. She cautiously looked up, finding herself face-to-face with Snape.

"Professor!" she gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm a professor, and this is a public library," he snapped out of reflex, but his voice lost its hostility in an instant. "I thought you would be here," he then mused cryptically after a moment.

"Why is that?" she asked, surprised.

"I distinctly remember you saying you did not want to pursue more Potions lessons on Fridays due to wanting to spend more time in the library."

"Oh…oh, yes, I remember that as well," Hermione responded, feeling stupid.

Snape eyed the title of the text in which she just had her nose buried. "Charms work, I see."

"Yes, Banishing Charms, but it's quite hopeless work by myself. I at least need to find a better locale to study, because I'm sure Madame Pince wouldn't appreciate it if I ended up launching myself backward into a shelf stocked with books."

Snape looked amused. "I'm quite sure she _would_ appreciate that, actually. Students have gotten lost, hurt, or even locked in here at night, and she hasn't batted an eye. I'd say she rather enjoys it all." A faint trace of mirth could be heard in his words.

Hermione chuckled and lowered her voice. "I wouldn't be surprised. She does seem like a nasty lady." Her eyes twinkled up at him. The professor continued to look at her for a moment. Then, his face turned toward the clock on the wall.

"Yes, I know," she said, reading his mind, "It's getting late, but I'd really like to perform one satisfactory Banishing Charm before I quit for the night."

"I used to know a witch who was quite accomplished with Charms work," Snape confided quietly and in an uncharacteristic, melancholy voice. Hermione waited, expecting him to continue. Instead, he said, "Come."

A bit befuddled, Hermione closed her text, stood up, and followed Snape. When they were out of sight of Madame Pince and stepped into the steadily darkening hallways, Snape placed his arm on her elbow gently but firmly, leading her. Hermione stared at the back of his head with curiosity, a look of bewilderment staining her face.

Snape led Hermione into an empty classroom and let go of her. Hermione blinked; the large quantity of torches in this room made it much brighter than the hallways.

"We can practice here," said her professor. He looked at her, apparently waiting for a reply.

"You're going to help me with Charms?" she inquired. Her befuddled expression deepened.

"Yes," he affirmed, explaining no more. He flicked his wand a few times, then let it rest again at his side. Hermione surveyed the space around her, as there were now soft cushions crowding the room. She turned back toward him.

"_Depulso!_" Snape shouted immediately when she again faced him. Hermione shot back in a straight line into a cushion behind her. He lowered his wand and walked agonizingly slowly in her direction, taunting her at having been caught off guard.

Hermione jumped back to her feet, pointed her wand directly at him, and screamed, "_Depulso!_" With his wand lowered, he hadn't enough time to react. He was thrown back, though not as far as she had been.

He snorted. "And this is your first time?" His expression was quizzical as he righted himself back into a standing position.

"Well, I _did_ just come from the library. And, as always, I read up on as much theory as I could before practicing." Hermione smirked at him, feeling triumphant.

"You truly are skilled, Miss Granger."

Hermione stiffened. She looked at him, expecting him to follow his kind words with a reprimand to balance them out, but he said nothing more. She smiled at him.

Snape smirked. "_Depul—!_"

"_Protego!_"

"—_so!"_

Both of them flew backward. They had been thinking they caught the other off guard, and both began laughing, though the professor's was more of an amused chuckle. Snape was first to get to his feet again. "_Dep—"_

From her knees, Hermione grinned and shouted, "_Expelliarmus!"_

Snape's wand flew out of his hand and Hermione was back on the same cushion she had just gotten up from. Knowing she had the advantage, Hermione leapt up in a flash and pointed her wand straight at Snape's chest, moving slowly toward him.

"I've got you."

"It appears so, but you were only supposed to be practicing the Banishing Charm, if I remember correctly," he mused amusedly.

"We never made rules!" Hermione joked, still laughing. She poked him lightly in the chest with the tip of her wand.

"I've won this battle, O Great Potions Master."

"Yes, you have," Snape conceded.

Hermione stared up at him for several seconds in silence, keeping her wand pointed at his chest. Not a sound could be heard in the room save for their breathing.

Snape returned the intensity of her stare. As he gazed down at her, his dark, hard eyes softened.

Hermione's wand slipped from her hand. It fell to the floor with a _clang_, but she made no move to retrieve it. She felt a magnetic force pull her upward, and thus began raising herself slowly onto her toes.

It was as if professor and respected student getting physically close again had been inevitable.

Snape grabbed hold of her arms to support her as she rose closer to his face. They had been silent for what seemed like minutes now. When Hermione was fully on her toes, Snape pulled her closer to his chest to keep her from losing her balance. She turned her face upward to look at him; Snape felt her sweet breath on his mouth, and he stirred. Hermione gazed into his softening eyes for a few more moments, then shied away, having turned a deep red. She tilted her head downward and snuggled deeper into his chest. He enclosed her in a full embrace now, laying his head on top of hers. Hermione closed her eyes.

_It feels so good…_

They stood like that for awhile, not making a sound as to avoid ruining the calm atmosphere. Their relaxation was interrupted by the chiming of the clock on the wall, alerting them that it had already been half an hour since they had reached the classroom.

_But…my God, what am I doing?_

Hermione unwillingly began to let go of her professor, but Snape pulled her back into place. She turned her chin upward to look him straight in the eye, and the expression in them was adamant: he would not let her go yet. She placed her head back under his, nuzzling his cloak at the collarbone. She let her eyelids droop again, feeling herself slip into that peaceful place she had become acquainted with during the Yule Ball. For awhile, her mind began slipping away just as it had then…

Feeling his embrace loosen, Hermione blinked and suddenly shook her head violently, as if trying to rid her mind of a troubling thought. When she was disentangled, she began to take a few steps away from him. She bent at the knee to pick up her wand, all the while not tearing her eyes from his gaze.

Neither knew what to say. Hermione opened her mouth a sliver to speak, but closed it again, opening it again soon afterward, flapping her lips like a fish. "Professor," was all she could come up with.

Snape flinched. Hearing Hermione switch back to pleasantries, the reality of what had just happened stung him like a wasp. His eyes turned cold again, and he regained his adumbral demeanor. Broodingly, he turned to his right, so that he was only half-facing her. He was ashamed.

Hermione, witnessing him slowly returning to normal, backed up a few more steps, then turned and ran from the almost deserted classroom.

_What on earth am I **doing** with him?!_


	7. Chapter 7

* 7 *

The weekend went by in a daze. Hermione couldn't explain what had happened with Professor Snape. She couldn't recall how she could've possibly felt to make her rise up to his face like that, to have lost control of herself so completely. She trembled at the memory of how closely he had held her, too close for any student and professor to have gotten, but…at the same time, it had been awfully warm… She shook her head again, trying to come up with reasons she would have been able to lose her mind like that. Maybe she was frustrated with Ron, and feeling alienated from boys? No, because Viktor made her feel special, and Harry was basically always nice to her. Did she feel they were too immature? Did she feel she needed the…the touch and love of an older man?

Each time she recalled how it felt to hold his gaze, she shivered, and each time, she reprimanded herself, "No, _no_!"

Hermione blazed through the halls to breakfast, lunch, and dinner on Saturday, Sunday, and even Monday, not able to think about anything except the possible ways in which she could have gone wrong. She felt a bit…immoral. She hadn't planned to tempt a professor like that (despite it only being an embrace, which still worried her), but it had happened. And with _Snape_. What if her friends found out?

Tuesday morning hit Hermione with a more pressing worry. She had Potions immediately after lunch, and hadn't a clue how she was going to face Snape again. Butterflies rose in her stomach. Unsettled, she rose from her bed, preparing to go down to breakfast and her first lesson. She had only the time between History of Magic and the end of lunch to figure out what she was going to do.

When she met Harry and Ron in the common room, her face must have given her despairing thoughts away, because all friendly banter stopped and Harry immediately asked, "Is something wrong, Hermione?"

Ron squinted and analyzed her face when Harry said this, but drew back, confused. "There's nothing wrong with her, mate. You're looking into things too much." He looked satisfied with his conclusion, seeming perfectly happy to be clueless.

"I think you're just blind," Harry explained.

"Or completely emotionally dull," clarified Hermione. "Thanks, Harry, but I'm fine." She mustered a smile at him. Although she wasn't _sad_, per se, she felt awkward, and she was most definitely unsure of how the day was going to proceed. Harry decided to drop it.

They walked to breakfast together, Hermione ignoring their chatter to continue to rack her brains for a possible solution to her tremendously head-hurting issue. It was amazing how very ignorant a clever girl could be in real-life situations if equipped with only book smarts. At the table, she played with her food, as she didn't have much of an appetite. She waited for Harry and Ron to finish before going to their History of Magic lesson.

In Professor Binns' classroom, Hermione was remarkably able to pay attention. Years of strict adherence to school rules had left her wholly able to concentrate in classes even under duress, and she felt it was all crumbling down around her now. I'm still a good girl, she tried to comfort herself. I just had a little slip, that's all.

Despite being mentally _able_ to focus in class, doing so took all of Hermione's energy. It was exhausting to ignore the visual that kept popping into her head: the arms that felt so warm around her, the dark figure that kept turning away from her and looking at the ground in shame.

Hours passed by like minutes, and Hermione was still dumbfounded at the end of lunch. With a sigh, she descended the stairs to the dungeons, now feeling a little queasy. With one last, deep breath, she pushed open the door to Snape's Potions classroom and sat down at her desk. Snape for some reason wasn't there yet, and she felt relieved knowing he hadn't been able to watch her as she walked in. She felt immensely frustrated; her paranoia was getting to her.

At last, the loud and abrupt closing of the door alerted the students that Potions class was in session. Hermione gulped, averting her eyes from the front of the room. She heard footsteps approach the very place she was ignoring, listened as the board wrote today's instructions and as students began to chop up their potion constituents. Hermione finally looked at the front of the room to begin her potion, and she saw him. Snape was not looking at her, but at a text he had placed on his desk. He had never read during class before, usually choosing to instead spend class time scrutinizing fourth-year potion-making. Hermione wasn't sure what this change in behavior meant, so she tried to ignore it and start her brewing as if nothing was wrong, as if a stoic professor who had so closely embraced her four days before was not avoiding her eyes like the plague.

Hermione managed to pass the time by keeping her eyes in only one of two places: on the board, or on her cauldron. After most of the potion was finished, all the board was instructing next was "Stir," so stir she did. This brainless task, however, was hardly a blessing, for it gave her more time to concentrate on thoughts she didn't want to enter her mind again; not when the object of them was in the room with her. She was terrified when she finished the last step, looking around the room to see if anyone else was finished so she could hide behind them as she handed in her sample. Horrified as she glanced around at the various stages of potion, she saw there was no chance of anyone else being done for at least another few minutes or so. With no scholarly distraction to impede them, her thoughts flowed fully forward…

_What am I going to do? Do I just leave with everyone else when class ends? No, surely he doesn't deserve me shirking all responsibility like that. I at least need to say something. But what do I say? What do I say to a professor who won't even look at me, at that? Maybe he'll make it easy for me… Maybe he'll act as if nothing happened and we'll continue like normal…or maybe he'll allow me to stop taking extra lessons… But surely that's not okay. I was really starting to enjoy those lessons… But… __**What do I do?!**_

Students began rising from their seats to hand in their potion samples. Hermione stayed quietly in her chair, waiting for a decent crowd to gather around him so she would be able to shield herself. In waiting for such a perfect opportunity, however, most of the class had already done the deed, and before she knew it, she was the last student in the classroom.

"Oh, this is rubbish," she scolded the situation, but she was only mad at herself. Grudgingly, she got to her feet and approached Professor Snape with her sample in hand.

"Took you longer today, did it, Miss Granger?" Snape finally looked at her, his dark eyes more piercing than ever.

When their eyes met, Hermione became even more unsettled. She laughed nervously and without humor. "Yeah, I…" She was going to come up with something to continue this sentence, something good, but her mind went completely blank, and her start hung lamely in the air.

She sighed. "Look, Professor, I'm really sor—"

Snape abruptly closed his eyes and raised his hand to cut her off.

"Don't."

He leaned over and grabbed the vial of her potion, putting it with the others to examine later.

She let out her breath in another sigh, looking hopeless.

Snape shifted and sat back in his chair, uncomfortable at witnessing her so obviously dejected. He looked like he was deciding something.

At last, he began, "Miss Granger, I don't want to influence you and make you feel that what happened is okay. However, you must realize that there have been far more…_upsetting_ situations to contend with, and you have bested them without complaint. You have battled a troll, excelled in rigorous practical examinations, and even passed my Potions puzzle in your first year while attempting to retrieve the Sorcerer's Stone. These accomplishments are not to be taken lightly. You are by no means too distracted from your schoolwork."

He closed his eyes again, aiming to word his next sentence carefully. "If you think what you have done is something to be ashamed of, you must remember that you still have time to develop control of your feelings in coming years." He was silent for awhile, then added, "It is what I, an adult, have done that should truly be punished."

"No, Professor!" the bushy brunette exclaimed, shaking her head. Normally she would be offended by being talked down to like a child, but she indeed felt no less than infantile in her recent actions. "Don't blame yourself. I came onto you. It was childish and stupid, but I came onto you." Her eyes were pleading.

"Miss Granger, I made you feel as if you had no choice. In your moment of weakness, I didn't push you away, but I instead pulled you closer. When you wanted to leave, I held you to me. That…is unforgivable." The way he spoke about this topic made it sound far graver than it was.

Hermione started crying. "No, no, no…" was all she could say. He had gotten it all wrong. It wasn't forceful at all, she'd swear it. "I didn't feel weak, I felt strong...and I didn't want to leave. You've misunderstood it all."

"You're mistaken. You were taken victim."

At a loss of words, all Hermione could do was sob.

Snape watched her, not knowing what to say. His words had wounded her.

Finally, "If you truly think that, then…allow me to see what you mean."

Hermione's sobs quieted as she peered back up at him. "What…what I mean?" she sniffed, curious but unconvinced.

"Have you heard of occlumency?"

She stiffened, as the word instantaneously rang a bell. "You want to _see_ it?" Hermione inquired, no longer confused. She had doubts about letting him view her thoughts as though through a telly, but she couldn't allow him continue to feel as if he had made the world end. She nodded. "Okay."

"Prepare yourself." His look was clouded and damaged, as if seeing her distraught anymore about this issue would give him intense personal discomfort. After hesitating for only a moment, he rose from his chair, stepped forward, and uttered, "_Legilimens!_"

In a flash, Snape saw the scene between the two of them replayed, this time through Hermione's eyes. He felt her overwhelmingly fast heartbeat, felt her skin flush when she first tapped his chest with her wand, and felt the sudden weakness that pulsed through her hand, causing her to drop her wand. But instead of feeling fear and resistance, uncertainty and denial, he felt her strength. As she rose onto her toes and breathed onto his mouth, her eyes met his with a desire so strong that only a mature woman, not a simple girl, could muster it. She turned away from his lips out of a desire to go more slowly with a man who seemed to be unsure in his own way about their sudden closeness. She looked forward to being pressed against the warmth of his chest a mere half-second later, anticipated it, hungered for it, and when she finally got what she wanted, she was happy. Her mind went blank, filling with peace and tranquility, a sense of wholeness that she had not felt before.

Snape let go of Hermione's mind. Looking around to see where she had gone, he panicked when he found that she had collapsed backward into a seat. He ran over to her side and put a hand on her shoulder. "Hermione?" he asked in a panic.

"Yeah," she responded, "I think I'm okay… That was just…intense." She looked into his eyes. "You called me Hermione." She grinned.

"I…" He couldn't deny it. "I was..." _Worried._

She looked at him but he didn't say anything more. Instead, she wanted to open her arms wide, wanted to comfort him, make him realize how she truly felt after he pulled her close, make him see that it wasn't a mistake to her, but simply caused her to experience a few days of girlish confusion, a confusion that had just made her feel uneasy. He had done nothing wrong.

Leaning down to her face height, Snape grazed her cheek with the back of his fingers. Hermione stood without warning. She reached up and grabbed his hand. He squeezed hers in return.

"Do you want this?" he asked, unsure. Hermione was quite sure he was asking her if she wanted to become closer to him, the strict, curt man she had known for the past four years.

She began rising onto the tips of her toes again, and Snape was there, reliably holding her up so she wouldn't fall. She moved her face close to his and veered off, brushing her cheek against his strong, broad jaw. She moved her lips across the edge of his jaw to just below his ear, her breathing growing rougher.

"I do," Hermione stated plainly. "I want this." She said this as she breathed on his neck and pressed into his body, perhaps a little too hard.

"Hermione," he gasped. All breath seemed to have left him, and he was panting. His eyes were completely clear now, full of pained longing.

Hermione caught the incredible desire in his eyes. She let up a bit on touching him, aware of what she was doing. She settled for staring with her big, chestnut brown eyes into his, reading him. As his breathing slowed, she buried herself into his chest, feeling his breath in her hair. She contented herself to listen to his heartbeat as it relaxed to a normal pace.

Snape wrapped his arms around her, laying his head on top of hers.

"No lessons today?" Hermione grinned.

Snape laughed. He was quite put off at having been so wholly distracted. "I am…not sure whether there is enough time, now."

Hermione laughed, but it was slightly muffled by Snape's embrace. The tears that had been lining her cheeks were finally dried as she nuzzled tightly against his cloak.

She drew away and looked at him again. "Sorry," she said, taking a hand from around him and wiping its back against her remaining tears.

Snape seemed unaffected by the light wetness on his front. He brought his face closer to hers, his penetrating eyes locked on hers.

He put his mouth on the crease between her nose and cheek, but there was no pressure behind his lips. He then brushed them upward and across her face. Hermione stayed still, becoming a bit unsettled, feeling her body react and shudder against him. His breath was on her face, and she could sense the desire in his movements. It took a very short time for Hermione to realize that his desire was mirrored in her eyes; she constantly wanted to be near him, but at the same time, she couldn't understand why. Viktor's proximity to her had never made her feel like this.

When Snape's face had moved to the side of hers, Hermione muffled her frustration by burying her face into his neck, her breath coming out quickly now. She traced her mouth up to his cheek and planted a kiss there. "Thank you, Professor…"

Snape's sudden, soft intake of breath sounded like another gasp. In an attempt to pull her tighter, his arms suddenly slid up from around her waist, taking some of her robes with them. Hermione let out a strangled sound as the bare skin around her ankles became exposed to the cold air in the room. Snape dropped hold of her robes but remained with his arms firmly around her.

Hermione felt desire pulsing through her body, felt his warmth penetrating her robes. "Professor, I… I'm not very used to this…"

Snape stared, then nodded. He looked about to say something, but he changed his mind. He loosened his grip and let go of her.

"I should get to dinner." Her pleasant, jovial expression had returned. "I'll see you Friday in class."

This time, Snape didn't regress to his usual, grumpy self as she walked out of his dungeon. In fact, he couldn't keep from slightly smirking to himself for a good while.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Ceye's note**: I've gotten two comments from two different people on deviantART (my username there is Alonely, by the way) and here mentioning the age difference of these characters. I don't like to label people by using the word "pedophile". There's a reason I started this fanfiction in the fourth Harry Potter book: Hermione is already 15, just below the age of consent. The next book, however, she is 16. I feel weird even having to mention that; it's a fic! No bad blood meant; I just wanted to clear that up. On with the show!_

...

* 8 *

Friday morning, under the noisy cover of a Charms classroom busy at work on Banishing Charms, Harry relayed what he had seen the night before: he had taken his egg "for a stroll" to find out the significance of its contents (Hermione was indignant at having discovered Harry was lying before about knowing what the clue meant) when he saw on the Marauder's Map that Barty Crouch had been snooping in Snape's office. Professors Snape and Moody were having a showdown rife with accusations of ill intention while Harry watched, trapped under his Invisibility Cloak after having fallen through the trick step in the stairs. At the mention of Snape's office being ransacked, Hermione gasped and covered her mouth.

"Did you say you saw Mr. Crouch in there?!" she squealed. When Harry nodded, she continued, "But there's no way! He's been ill!"

"I know, Hermione; it doesn't make sense to me, either," Harry agreed.

Hermione had to tell Snape, both because she had found his culprit and because she wondered whether he could help her understand why Crouch would do such a thing, relinquishing his job as a Triwizard judge and stealing from a professor's private stores.

When Harry and Ron began suspecting that Snape was hiding something in his office, Hermione remained silent. She didn't want to think that the professor she had grown close to was on the wrong side. Harry told them how Snape put two and two together when he noticed Harry's egg and the fallen Marauder's Map. He explained how Snape knew he was there, trapped in the stairs and under his Invisibility Cloak, and only left without accosting him because Professor Moody had been threatening him. Ron played aloud with the idea that Snape had entered Harry's name into the Goblet of Fire, and Hermione quickly reminded him how the last time they thought Snape meant to hurt Harry, he was actually saving his life. She told them that she wouldn't trust what Moody says, because Dumbledore was not brainless. If Dumbledore trusted Snape, there had to be a reason for it, even if Snape was sometimes a little…

"—evil," Ron had filled in for her. Why would they search his private stores, he reasoned, if he didn't have something to hide?

"Then how do you explain Mr. Crouch pretending to be ill?" Hermione snapped.

Ron accused her of being against Crouch only because of his harsh treatment of his house elf, Winky. Hermione was indignant.

"And _you_ just want to think Snape's up to something!" She felt enraged at Ron's accusations, brandishing her wand at a cushion in front of her and sending it with perfect finesse into the box Professor Flitwick had set up at the front of the class.

"I just want to know why Snape's already on his second chance," Harry mumbled.

Lunch was a quiet affair that day, since Hermione was upset with the two boys for having unjustly accused Snape of wrongdoing. They continued prattling on about their conspiracy theories and, not being able to listen to them anymore, Hermione stood up, heading to the dungeons early for double Potions.

The dungeons now had a homey feel to them. She used to think they were too dark, too creepy, and too cold, but each of those aspects had turned out to be a good thing when she was alone with Snape. She blushed.

Harry and Ron came in and sat near Hermione just before class was about to begin. When Snape entered the room, the door closed and he swiftly came to stand at the front of the classroom. She took a moment to admire the towering black figure in front of her, eyeing the comfortable, dark, black cloak that flew out behind him almost everywhere he went. She didn't even notice the board had already begun instructing until Snape initiated his usual pacing around the room. He was back to criticizing the work of his students, which made Hermione nearly giggle. Ron and Harry looked at her, utterly bewildered, Ron almost disgusted.

"What's _she_ so pleased about?" he wondered aloud in a whisper to Harry.

"Dunno," Harry shrugged.

Snape came over to Hermione and lingered, distracting himself by focusing entirely on what was in her cauldron. He moved to the back of her chair and leaned over her slightly, avoiding being too conspicuous while still being able to savor the sweet smell of shampoo on her hair.

Hermione stirred. There was something terribly exhilarating about having her professor be so brazen like that, not being able to wait until they were alone to admire the essence that so tantalized his senses. To her disappointment, he was only there for a few seconds more; he then straightened and returned to scowling at the mediocre potion-making skills of the Gryffindors.

Hermione grinned to herself. If they only knew, she thought. Then she delved more into this frightening new train of thought. What if her classmates _did_ know? What would happen to her? What would happen to Snape? What if those who found out told other members of the staff? Hermione thought this all very lightly and was tempted to laugh it off to avoid worrying herself into a tizzy.

She spent a great deal of Potions staring at her professor, beholding him as she never had before. He was a strict man, with dark, penetrating eyes and a perpetual frown etched onto his face. The black curtains of his hair had a few strands hanging loosely down over the edges of his forehead, framing his face and giving him a harsh, unkempt look. He had a habit of stringing his words together in a curt drawl, and he gave off an air of superiority, though he was quite slight of stature. He towered over most of the students, but now that Hermione analyzed him more closely, he couldn't have been taller than 5'10". She remembered how she had to stand on her toes to reach his face comfortably, but she could set her head on his shoulder after raising only an inch or two if she wanted.

Hermione lost herself in thoughts of being near him again, even of jumping out of her seat and running into his arms. She let loose the controls on her mind, allowing herself to daydream unbridled as she mindlessly produced an accurate rendition of the required potion. She was eagerly awaiting the end of the class with a swollen heart.

When her wish came true, she immediately stood up and nearly skipped over to Snape, handing to him her sample and giving him a shy smile. He said nothing as his eyes looked into hers, and she thought she saw a smile in them before they flitted back to his familiar, unkind expression. Hermione made to pack up her belongings as if she was going to leave, purposefully taking an egregiously long time, until everyone had left. Harry and Ron had given up on waiting for her after Potions lessons awhile ago, and they had immediately left to fetch their dinner.

Snape eyed her curiously. When they were alone, he asked, "You're not hungry?"

"No, it's not that," she explained. "I was just wondering if I could have dinner with you."

What seemed like an amused expression crossed his face. "Then you should get your meal and bring it here," he suggested, looking inspirited.

"Do you want anything?"

Snape shook his head.

"You do _eat_, don't you?" Hermione was only half joking.

He almost grinned. "I'm not hungry."

Hermione analyzed him, but felt it was fruitless. She shrugged, "Okay. I'll be back!" She left the dungeons, keen on grabbing a plate of food from the Great Hall and returning as soon as possible. She couldn't explain it, but she had a maddening desire to spend more time with her now-favorite professor. She decided to drop her belongings off in Gryffindor Tower (who would be there at dinner time?) before going down to dinner. When she got to the common room, however, she spotted Ron.

"Ron! What are you doing here?" she asked, a bit flustered.

"Why aren't you at dinner?" he asked, ignoring her question and tapping his foot expectantly.

Hermione knit her eyebrows and gave him a look. "Why aren't _you_ at dinner?" she returned, her anger mounting.

"I came up here to get some stuff." He didn't continue, and Hermione looked at him quizzically.

"Well, I have to be getting to dinner, so…" Hermione started, but quickly realized her mistake. She wasn't going back down to the Great Hall for more than a minute or two, and Ron would yet again wonder where she'd left to.

"Then why'd you come up here?" he inquired, staring at her.

Hermione moaned in exasperation at his pushiness and plopped her books down on the table by the fire. "To put down my books! What's it to you?"

"You could just drop them off after dinner instead of making Harry and me wait."

"I thought you weren't waiting for me anymore! Besides, you're not my parent! You can have dinner without me for one night, and you don't have to scold me for being late, Professor Weasley!" Before Ron had a chance to respond, Hermione turned and trounced out of the room, hurrying down to the Great Hall, desperate to snatch a plate of food before Ron got the same idea. She muttered a quick and moody "Hi, Harry," and was gone before Harry had fully whirled around to see her.

Ron entered the hall just as Hermione left. He caught a glimpse of her bushy brown hair and shook his head. He had a sudden intuition that he should follow her, but the smells of the food in the hall reminded him of his ravenous hunger. He sat down next to Harry without a word and buried his face into his plate.

Hermione arrived in the dungeons and put her plate on the desk closest to Snape. Snape gave her frown an inquiring look.

"What's gotten you so upset?"

When Hermione shook her head exasperatedly and simply explicated, "Ron's being ridiculous," he nodded.

"I see." He watched as she ate at her desk. Waiting for her to look up and notice the chair he had procured for her, he soon realized that his attempt was in vain. "There's a second seat up here," he instructed.

Hermione looked up and saw the seat he was referring to. "Oh, is there?" she said pointlessly as she rose with her plate in hand and made to sit down by where he was standing. Snape sat as she did and turned left to face her, resuming watching her as she ate. Hermione was made a bit uncomfortable by this, but thankfully she had finished most of her meal at the desk anyway, and soon pushed her plate away from her. She caught Snape's eye, who was analyzing her as if she was a most interesting experiment.

Figuring now was as good a time as any to tell him, she started, "I don't know how often I'll be able to do this, you know… I just felt that, because we practiced Banishing Charms last week, I'm already ahead on my lessons and had no need to go to the library tonight…"

"No need to go to the library?" Snape teased, playacting being astounded. It was the first time he had acknowledged that Hermione was a total bookworm, and she laughed, feeling like a nerd.

"Yes. Not for tonight, at least," she corrected. "Harry told me he had worked out the clue inside his golden egg a week ago, but it turns out he was only lying to get me off his back," she sighed. "He finally has it this time, though, and tomorrow I'm going to help him research something he's looking for quite constantly in the library. Until we find something, I'll be spending most of my free time there. I didn't want to spend today in there too."

Snape nodded in understanding.

Unabashedly, Hermione picked up her chair and scooted closer to him. Up close, she could better see the changes her presence wrought in his face: his sable eyes always softened for her now, and the closer she got to him, the more his lips parted in an expression of curiosity; as to consider what her next move would be, she'd wager. She wondered how he would react to her laying her head on his collarbone like she had done at the ball, so she got as close to him as possible and did. Snape was getting more used to Hermione's blatant shows of affection, and as such, he hesitated for a shorter time than usual before sliding his arm across her back, letting it come to rest around her waist. Hermione entered the familiar warmth of her favorite long, black cloak, and began to feel more docile as her moments in his arms lingered on. She seemed to always let her defenses down when they were physically close, and it was so effortless for her to relax.

Then Hermione remembered what Harry and Ron had said about Snape, and she lifted her head a minuscule amount as she broke the silence.

"I heard that—" She stopped herself – with Snape giving her an odd look – an unpleasant thought having occurred to her. How else would Snape think she had found out about the previous night's events if Harry hadn't been there, trapped in the stairs, blabbing to her about it afterward? She couldn't leave Harry out to dry like that.

She reworded what she wanted to say. "I mean, have you gotten any closer to finding who has been stealing from your stores?"

"No, but I found that my office was broken into yet again last night." He didn't go on.

Hermione didn't push the subject. She had wanted to ask Snape about his thoughts on why Mr. Crouch would be stealing from him, but she couldn't bring him up without Snape finding out that Harry was indeed on those steps the night before, just as he had thought. He was sharp, and would likely have a theory or two.

An unexpected daydream began to split Hermione's attention. Her mind drifted, and she began to marvel at Snape's intelligence. He would indeed have a theory about Mr. Crouch's thievery. It seemed nothing could go unnoticed by the slick, intellectual misanthrope. To be a potions master indeed required a certain attention to detail, but it was as if this was one of Snape's greatest strengths. With their past encounters, Snape had made a face to react to her every movement, whether his disposition became indifferent to mask his attraction or receptive and open to allow himself to indulge in his feelings.

Hermione mused aloud to Snape, "You're…very unique, Professor."

Snape's eyes were gazing into hers, but now he drew back, looking almost offended. "What do you mean?"

"I don't mean it like that," she said, dismissing his haughty look and hastening to get whatever he thought she meant out of his head. "You're so quiet, and you always pay such close attention." Complimenting him made her feel giddy, so she continued, "And you're an amazingly accomplished and talented wizard." She stopped, feeling a little lightheaded at realizing for herself his strengths, as if speaking of them aloud made them more real. She was surprised as to the reality that she was now growing closer to this incredible man, who had such skill in potions and magic, and even the darkest, most complicated arts.

There was a pause during which Snape regarded her. "Perhaps you haven't considered my…quietness…to be due to my unwillingness to deal with most people."

"Oh, believe me, I have." The celerity with which she spoke this line etched a curious countenance on Snape's face. Hermione felt a sudden burst of courage, and felt that now was the time to ask the question burning on her mind. "What I want to know is why you're letting me get to you," she ventured quite boldly.

She heard a nervous intake of breath from behind her. Taking her head from his chest, she looked up into his face. He appeared to be holding his breath.

"You seem…to want to become closer to me," Snape said. Finally, it was his turn to look uncomfortable.

She laid her head on his shoulder. "I do." She reached up across his chest to place her left hand on his other shoulder, squeezing him. "Has it been working?"

She could no longer see his face, but she imagined how his visage must appear. "Yes," he said quietly.

"I'm so glad," she smiled. She closed her eyes and rested against his chest, positioning herself comfortably so she didn't have to strain her back to lean on him. She sighed against his cloak, and soon the only sound in the room came from her breath rustling his cloak.

Snape eyed the room, as if verifying for one last time that no one else was there. When he was satisfied, or at least less suspicious of the apparently threatening and dangerous inanimate objects on the walls, he laid his head on top of hers and closed his eyes as well.

Minutes later, Snape was brought back to awareness by Hermione's sudden, deep breathing. He was stunned, both that she had fallen asleep against him and that she could even manage to rest in that seemingly uncomfortable position, leaning on his chest. Not wanting to wake her, but worried that she'd be discovered the next morning in the event she overslept and was late to class, he fumbled with ideas of what else he could do in his head before he realized that tomorrow was a Saturday. He sighed in relief, pulling his cloak over her like a blanket and allowing his eyes to rest again. If he was going to see her only once a week from now on, and if that time would be spent in potions instruction, then he would enjoy the time he had with her now. For this reason, he had no desire to wake her.

Snape focused all of his attention on the sound her soft breathing made, pushing every other thought out of his mind. This was relaxing and meditative. After listening only to her sleepy sighs for a few minutes, his head began to go fuzzy, and he joined Hermione, drifting off…

They were both awoken by the sound of loud, approaching footsteps outside the door. Shocked and feeling like a deer caught in headlights, Hermione jumped away from her professor and got to her feet, folding her arms but not knowing what else to do to seem less conspicuous if someone walked in. Her heart was pounding in her ears.

Snape only stood, listening carefully to the banter outside. It grew quieter the longer he paid attention. He concluded that the din was only coming from a pack of rowdy students, rumbling through the halls with raised voices for no reason other than because they lacked common courtesy.

After the footsteps died down, Hermione realized she had no idea what time it was. Shakily, she stated, "I should go." She was still a little scared. Her heart had practically leapt out of her chest when she felt like she and Snape were about to be caught, and she didn't want to risk it again.

Snape inwardly cursed the noisy students, but had to agree with her: being caught would elicit terrible consequences for the both of them, and they absolutely could not risk it. He hoped this scare would not change her behavior toward him in future encounters, but he also comprehended with great disappointment that this had been his last chance to spend time in such close proximity to her, since she would be far too busy in the coming weeks to pay him many visits. He nodded, feeling disheartened.

"I'll see you Tuesday, Professor." She looked at him once more, then opened the classroom door and left, leaving him with lingering thoughts about the precious, close moments they had just spent together. After allowing himself a moment to become lost in his mind to cement these memories, Snape came back to his senses and exited the classroom.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Ceye's note**__: I don't like being rude to anyone, but to a certain commenter: nothing has happened with Hermione in her fourth year. If you would stop leaving negative reviews that have little to do with the story content, it would be greatly appreciated._

_And Luna de Papel, here is something more along the lines of a chapter you requested. =)_

...

* 9 *

The potions dungeon was filled with mixtures the likes of which most students had never seen, and would probably never be able to fully appreciate. To understand the subtle intricacies of potion-making was a task that interested few wizards, and even fewer students.

This was how Severus Snape lamented the mediocrity of his students. He had often felt enraged by their tendency to view the class as only necessary to graduate instead of essential to survive. Ungrateful, they all were; misbehaving, know-it-all teenagers whose worst nightmare was to lose face in front of their posse. Instead, they should be worrying about real dangers, like coming face-to-face with death, or losing a friend because of a sudden outburst. When Snape was their age, he learned the material and put it to good use instead of pretending the world was filled with mummies and daddies who would always be there to protect their sweet little boy or girl forevermore.

Lately, however, these unpleasant thoughts had not been on Snape's mind. He found himself concentrating less on the incompetence of some students and more on the brilliance of one student in particular: Hermione Granger. She had taken the chance to ask her surly professor to dance at the Yule Ball, and ever since, his scowl had lost some of its nastiness, his bark some of its edge. He felt like all of his work was not in vain because of that one student who truly appreciated something that he did. She enjoyed school, and while Snape couldn't say that he enjoyed school when he was a student, he could say with confidence that he had always thought the subject material he was taught was important, especially in more practical classes like Defense Against the Dark Arts. No, his dislike of school instead came from the people who teased and terrorized him while in it.

But Hermione was not like any of _them_. She was genuinely interested in what he had to say, and even wanted to become closer to him, to be his friend. As the weeks waged on and the potions he taught her grew more complex, his feelings for his new friend did the same. She was a student and he a teacher, so he could not be there for her in public as he wished to be. But he knew one thing: he would not let her go. She made him too...elated.

When February the twenty-fourth, the day of the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, arrived, Snape sat by other members of the staff and waited for the champions to surface with their valuables. He looked around for Hermione, but gave up trying to find her when too many heads bobbed in his face and he would've had to stand on his toes to get a better view. He resigned himself to watching the challenge quietly, surrounded by a handful of older men—namely Ludo Bagman—chattering excitedly and making bets on who would resurface first.

There was really not much to watch except for the lake itself or the other spectators. Snape had yet another urge to seek out Hermione, but he kept it restrained by busying himself with other thoughts…such as what he would teach her in her next lesson, as she was ready to begin another new recipe…

He shook his head, irritated with himself. It seemed as if any thought he had involved her. He began tapping his foot against the ground beneath him, impatiently awaiting the moment he could look for Hermione without this massive crowd disrupting his line of vision, and becoming angry with himself for being thus bothered. Why did he want to talk to her so badly? He didn't feel quite right; something was clearly wrong.

Fleur Delacour had been disqualified while he was lost in his thoughts, and at hearing this, he began focusing more on the challenge. As the minutes waged on, however, Snape didn't feel any better. He felt an increasingly uncomfortable sensation rise in the pit of his stomach, but he couldn't identify why. Finally, the head of Cedric Diggory, encased by a bubble due to Cedric's successful use of the Bubble-Head Charm, popped up out of the water. He was carrying Cho in his arms. The crowd cheered, despite him having taken more time than was allotted for the task. As he was the first to return, however, Snape was sure the time limit had been disregarded.

Suddenly, what appeared to be a shark flipped out of the water, carrying a limp, sodden figure in its arms. Snape thought he recognized the figure, but it was too far away to tell. He guessed the one holding onto it was Viktor Krum, the champion from Durmstrang. This was confirmed when Krum's head returned to normal. The unidentified figure began to cough violently, and Snape rose to his feet to get a better look. With a shock, he now recognized Hermione as the one Krum had just rescued.

It was as if all breath left him. Snape couldn't put a finger on why he felt so uncomfortable all of the sudden. He knew Dumbledore would never allow any student to actually drown, even if for a Triwizard Tournament challenge. No, Hermione was perfectly okay. There was something else that was bothering him so, and his stomach lurched more erratically the longer he stared at the scene.

Interrupting his thoughts was a splash from three surfaces splitting the water's surface. He knew that dark-haired, bespectacled idiot as soon as he saw him. It was Harry Potter, and he had apparently returned with both Ronald Weasley and Gabrielle Delacour.

Snape snorted. _What a __**hero**_, he thought bitterly to himself as he rolled his eyes. As if to agree, the crowd suddenly went wild, and Snape could barely hear his own thoughts.

When Harry joined Krum and Hermione, however, Snape's attention became undivided. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he watched their every move. With a jolt, he saw Krum get close to Hermione, and she soon brushed something out of her hair. Krum looked dejected as Hermione continued to prattle on about something to Harry. The judges huddled and all was quiet, tension the only thing keeping the scene from being entirely silent. As they announced the winners, delineating that Harry had earned forty-five points despite being last, roars of cheers and applause filled the air. Snape noticed that Krum was trying to talk to Hermione, but his efforts were lost on a girl intent on cheering for Harry until she went mute. Madam Pomfrey herded the champions and their hostages away from the crowd to get into clean, dry clothes.

And Snape, having been made sick by all the unsettlement in his stomach, followed them.


	10. Chapter 10

* 10 *

Snape stalked up to the castle and then through it, intent on finding one champion and his hostage in particular. He finally caught up to Hermione as she was about to enter Gryffindor Tower, and it seemed that she had already changed, as she was in dry clothing now. "Miss Granger," he called, unable to call her by her first name in such a public area of the castle.

Hermione turned around. "Professor Snape! How did you enjoy the challenge?"

"It was…interesting," he finished lamely. He wasn't at all interested in discussing the second task.

"Yeah, it really was." She was beaming, either for Harry having received excellent marks, or perhaps – as Snape was more inclined to believe – her smile was because she was the one Krum cared most about.

As if to give voice to his worries, Hermione continued, "Well, I'm going to meet Viktor in a minute, so I'll see you in class Tuesday, okay?"

"Why?" Snape blurted out abruptly, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

"He…wanted to have dinner with me… Why?" she asked, skeptical of his unexpected outburst.

"Because… I want to be sure you're not getting close to the enemy," Snape finished with the first thing that popped into his head, entirely glazing over the real issue.

"Getting close to the—Oh, for heaven's sake, not you too!" she spat, clearly offended. "You can't honestly be serious!"

"He could be befriending you simply to find out Potter's secrets," Snape weakly tried to reason with her.

"Ugh! You're _just_ like Ron!"

"Don't say that!" he snapped sharply, abruptly filling with rage at being compared to her clueless red-headed fool of a friend. He bristled at her.

"Then stop being an intolerable bigot!" she shouted at him, turning in a rush and stomping off toward the Gryffindor common room.

Snape bared his teeth at having been called such a derogatory name. How dare she speak that way to her professor! Not knowing what else to say, he yelled after her, "Twenty points from Gryffindor!"

Feeling lame, foolish, and not waiting to see the reaction on her face, he stormed off in the opposite direction. He huffed and decided to skip dinner for the evening, wholly unwilling to see Hermione side-by-side with Krum once more. As he walked through the halls, his anger solidified.

_An intolerable bigot… Hmph!_ That in no way described him! How could she even think that it did? He just _knew_ Krum had to be up to something and she couldn't see it… Hermione and he had gotten along so well except for this one topic. What was it about discussing Krum that was different from their discussions about the admirable intricacy of potion-making, or the widespread insolence of students? Surely there had to be a reason. What that reason could be was what unsettled him.

Snape moodily descended the stairs into his dungeon and, once inside, cast a protective barrier on the door to keep _any_ wizard—or witch—out.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Ceye's note**__: I'm posting the chapters I'd normally post over the next few days – chapters 11 through 14 – today as I have an exam on Friday and I will be going dark to study for it. If you want to keep yourself going at the same pace with the story, read a chapter a day. I'll be back to a normal schedule on Saturday. Thanks for your understanding! =)_

_Also, to any Norwegians who may be reading this: Jeg skal bo i Norge fra 9. mai til 7. august. Jeg vil snakke litt med deg, så snakk til meg! ^-^_

...

* 11 *

Potions the Friday after the second task was a touchy affair for both teacher and student. Hermione was brewing the assigned potion flawlessly as usual, but when she finished it, she did not immediately hand it to her professor as she had done the past month. Instead, she took to gabbing with Harry and Ron, albeit she could only sneak in a sentence or two when Snape wasn't looking.

Snape was treating her with perfunctory, cold indifference, just as he had done before their private lessons began. He paced around the room, looking disapprovingly down his hooked nose at the mediocre creations of both Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Feeling especially nasty, he stopped at their table and ranted shortly about how their potion looked and smelled unacceptable. He had been treating them with slightly less disdain in recent lessons, but now he resumed his cutthroat criticism of their failures. He heard Hermione made an annoyed sound behind him, but purposely made no notice.

When double Potions was over, the students handed in their samples seemingly all at once. The potions master took vials from the sea of hands and, by the time the masses had cleared, Hermione and her friends were nowhere to be found. He scowled with as much wrath as he normally did, the weakening fortress around his heart beginning to refortify itself. He decided to stay in his dungeon again during dinner to get his grading over with early.

But mostly to avoid seeing Hermione's face in the Great Hall.

...

Tuesday's Potions lesson was as equally somber as double Potions had been on Friday. This time, when class ended, Hermione did not stay. With a powerful pang, Snape saw her leave with her friends Harry and Ron. Despite his chest suddenly feeling heavy, he was determined not to be upset. Realizing that she had chosen to give up her extra potions lessons because of him merely having said something she didn't like, he assured himself that he indeed wouldn't be teaching her privately again, and that it was fine with him. He had no reason to be personally involved in a teen girl's angst.

_Yes, _he thought_, I am not bothered. Let her go with her friends and neglect her lessons. She'll be worse off without the extra knowledge I could impart to her._

But he couldn't help but feel that his assumption was a bit unfounded.

Snape felt bitterer than ever.


	12. Chapter 12

* 12 *

Snape waited in his dungeon before his double Potions class with the Gryffindors and Slytherins was to commence. He heard a great deal of racket outside, and he opened the dungeon door, motioning the students inside. He didn't even look down when Hermione passed him, but he felt her presence whisk by.

He walked to the board and wrote down the ingredients for the day's task, the Wit-Sharpening Potion. When finished, he sat in his chair at the front of the room for a few minutes before he caught the sound of voices. Looking up, he was enraged to find it was Hermione and her two sidekicks. He got to his feet and began pacing the room as he always did, unnoticed by the three. He stayed close behind them, eavesdropping on their conversation. He overheard that Hermione had been asked to visit Krum in Bulgaria over the summer, and that Krum has supposedly "never felt the same way about anyone else." He stiffened, ignoring the rest of her words as he pulsed with boiling anger.

Seconds later, he interrupted her, taking ten points from Gryffindor and snarling that although her social life was undoubtedly incredibly interesting, the time to discuss it was not in his class.

Finding that they were also hiding a newspaper under the desk, Snape took another ten points from their House, grabbed the newspaper, and rolled his eyes, seeing that the headline dealt with the oh-so-famous-and-heroic Harry Potter. Seeing the title, "_Harry Potter's Secret Heartache_", a devilish smirk crossed his face. Eyeing the look on Harry's face, Snape began to read the article, which detailed how poor Harry Potter's heart had been shattered by Hermione's two-timing ways with him and Viktor Krum, out loud, much to the delight of his Slytherin students. He stopped at the end of each sentence to allow time for the laughter to build in his classroom, laughter that he tried to mirror in his own heart. Out of the corner of his eye, just barely covered by the magazine in front of him, he saw Hermione's face flush. He read the last sentence aloud and lamented that he regrettably would have to separate the three of them due to their entwined love lives' possible interference with their potion-brewing.

When Harry had moved to the front of the room as he was told, Snape taunted him, telling him that his ego was much too inflated. To sting Hermione when Harry told her later, Snape warned him that if he was caught sneaking into his office to steal ingredients one more time that he would most definitely regret it, even though Snape did not believe Harry had been the one to do it. Indignant, an insolent Harry scoffed at him.

Enraged by this, Snape decided to put the icing on the cake: he pulled from his robes a vial of Veritaserum that Hermione herself had brewed and brandished it in front of Harry's face. Snape threatened him with it, insisting that if he ever found reason to believe Harry had been in his office again he would clandestinely smuggle a few drops into his evening cup to make him relay the truth.

Snape had no intention to do such a thing to Harry, but he felt he had gotten his point across, as the student was now silent and had gone back to slicing up his ginger roots in apparent anguish. A twisted smile was painted on the professor's face.

Snape was surprised, in his malevolent glee, to hear a knock at the door, to which he straightened up. He composed his voice and said only, "Enter."

Igor Karkaroff came in the classroom. Snape recoiled. Karkaroff walked to the front of the room, drawing a considerable amount of eyes while doing so, and insisted that he talk to Snape immediately.

Snape snapped that Karkaroff would have his chance after the lesson. Perturbed, the intruder sat down and impatiently awaited the end of the period. The presence of his unwelcome visitor made Snape's lip curl.

When the end of the period came, Snape wasted no time, as the students filed out the door, in asking Karkaroff what had been so bloody important that it couldn't possibly wait any longer.

When Karkaroff yanked up his sleeve and showed something apparently horrific that was hiding beneath it, Snape blenched. "Put that away!" he demanded, nervously searching the room for curious student eyes. "We will speak later!"

Spotting Harry, who was fumbling around on the ground, Snape's heart began thudding loudly in his chest. "Potter! Get out of here!"

"I was only cleaning up my armadillo bile, Professor," he claimed innocently, rag in hand. Before Snape could say more, both Karkaroff and Potter had left his classroom in a flash.

Snape remained at his desk for a long period of time, feeling immensely frustrated as well as worried. Harry may have overheard his brief conversation with Karkaroff, and may have even seen what was on his arm! If Potter told his friends, as he surely would, then Hermione might make the connection… And since Karkaroff was so desperate to warn him about… She might think...

He shook his head more violently than ever. _Why does it matter? She's just a foolish girl._

_But_, his mind started, _combined with all the lies you fed Potter today, she might really think you're as horrible as you really are_. Snape shuddered, but stopped fighting his thoughts. In truth, he felt miserable about everything he'd just said and done, and about the consequences it might have…

In a terrible mood, he again shut himself in his dungeon.


	13. Chapter 13

* 13 *

Tuesday came rolling around, and he again saw Hermione in his class. He felt a pang of guilt when he looked at her, but didn't allow himself to feel anything more. That is, until he saw that her hands were covered with bandages. Immensely curious, he wanted to ask her what had happened, but he couldn't. When she attempted to chop up her ingredients, but failed miserably and had to have Harry do it for her, he turned his head away. He spent the lesson pushing back the nagging worry he felt at seeing Hermione in such a vulnerable state, looking as if her past week had been nothing less than dreadful (he grit his teeth when he realized he might have had an uncomfortably large part in this) and moving her hands carefully to avoid wincing in pain.

When class was over and Hermione stood up, a wary Snape saw her hands slip and spill the perfect contents of her sample vial all over the floor. Normally Snape would do nothing but chuckle in this situation, but instead his heart sank. She started making an odd sound while she fetched a rag and started cleaning the spot she had soiled. Gathering another bottle full of potion from her cauldron, she hastily walked to the front of the room and handed it to her professor without looking at him. Up close, Snape could see she was crying, tears leaking from her eyes uncontrollably and staining her normally unblemished face.

His habitual scowl instantly melted, along with the anger that had been mounting inside of him for the past two weeks. T he guilt he had been feeling here and there because of how he'd been treating her, which had been manageable in small amounts over such a period, hit him all at once. He desperately wanted to ask her what was wrong, or even just comfort her without saying a word, but the last thing she would do now is hug him or look to him for support. Aching at this harsh truth, he again averted his eyes. He realized with a start that he had returned to being the rude, harsh professor he used to be in her eyes, not the one who held her as she relaxed at the Yule Ball. With an inexorable burst of sadness that threatened to consume him, he tried to concentrate only on the vials now being thrust into his hand, and to think of nothing else.

He failed, and, sensing emotional danger, the defense mechanisms that Snape had been fine-tuning over decades of being alone began glazing over his sadness, turning him back into a numb, heartless creature.

The true Professor Snape was back in the room even before all the students had left.


	14. Chapter 14

* 14 *

The weeks blurred into each other. Soon it was mid-March, late March, then early April. The Easter holiday was no more enjoyable to him than any other day. Every now and then, upon seeing _her_ face, Snape thought back to the beginning of March, when he had started being cruel to Hermione. He had not spoken to her, not even to ridicule her in class, since that time. Their private lessons had come to an end, and he spent his new-found, extra free time on Tuesdays grading or taking a walk outside the castle, though how he used to spend his time teaching Hermione alone in his classroom had been far more preferable. Most of the time, however, Snape did an excellent job of hiding these thoughts and the unpleasant feelings associated with them...though they still bubbled under the surface like an untended, unstirred potion.

He had lost all track of time, of how long he had been locking himself up in his dungeon every day except for some meals. It was now the last week in May. About ten o'clock at night, after a disturbing talk with Dumbledore, Snape ran into Harry outside the stone gargoyle leading to the headmaster's office, and he purposely did anything in his power to toy with him, to ignore the emergency that Harry said was on his hands with an apparently insane Barty Crouch and a desperate need to speak to Dumbledore. To Snape's dismay, the headmaster soon left his office and obliged Harry, going down with him to investigate what was going on. In a huff, Snape stormed off, having had his fun foiled by the all-too-kind headmaster.

But if he had to admit it, his heart was not really in it, that night or any other night in the past month.

...

The week before the end of term was a time for examinations and for the third and final challenge of the Triwizard Tournament. The maze to be used for the task took up the entire Quidditch field; its hedges were some twenty feet high, and it was filled with all sorts of menacing creatures supplied by Hagrid the Gamekeeper. Snape gathered with the others who were eagerly awaiting the third task to begin, which included the entire mass of Hogwarts. He saw the four champions position themselves near one gap in the front of the maze, all of them looking nervous but determined. The sky was turning dark and some stars were already visible.

After a quick chat with Minerva McGonagall, the champions strode away to separate areas at the start of the maze and stood, waiting for the task to begin.

Ludo Bagman's booming voice suddenly rang out above the noisy crowd. He reminded everyone of the champions' current standing before he commanded Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory, both tied for first place and both from Hogwarts, to enter the maze. They did, disappearing from view a short while afterward. Snape's thin lips formed into a tight line as he watched Viktor Krum engage the maze next, followed moments later by Fleur Delacour. All the champions were now inside the maze and, though unable to see anything, the crowd was huddled in gossip and tell of who would reach the Triwizard Cup first and win. Snape, on the other hand, said nothing; though it would be a great honor for a Hogwarts student to win, he couldn't be much excited about anything. He had trained his mind to be devoid of most if not all emotion, and it had been doing a very good job. As he had been doing often as of late, he stared around the field and occasionally off into space, thinking…

He did not know how much time had passed between him losing focus of the task at hand and Harry Potter falling onto the ground holding onto Cedric Diggory. He got to his feet to watch the scene unfold, and soon heard those closest to the two boys begin shouting, "He's dead! Cedric Diggory is dead!"

Widespread panic and fear inflicted the audience like a virus. Some ran, and some stayed and stared after the horrifying scene. Dumbledore picked Harry up and set him on his feet, though the shocked boy looked about to fall over. Mad-Eye Moody took hold of Harry and led him off the field, presumably to take him the hospital wing. Snape stopped his gawking and ran down to Dumbledore's side as Amos Diggory sank to his knees and screamed, "My boy! My boy is dead!"

Snape hastily informed Dumbledore that Harry had been taken away by Moody. Apparently, Moody had disobeyed Dumbledore, and was supposed to keep Harry where he was. Snape nodded in understanding, getting one last glance of father curling around his son's body before rushing toward the castle.

Once inside the castle, they ran through the halls for a time before barging into Moody's office with the help of a blinding flash of red light. Sure enough, there was Harry himself, obviously not in the hospital wing as a temporarily naïve Snape had thought.

As Moody was knocked backward onto the floor and Dumbledore kicked him over onto his back, Snape glanced at the Foe-Glass, seeing himself stare back and scowling. He turned to face Dumbledore and Moody. Dumbledore and Minerva launched into a quick scuffle about whether Harry should stay to better understand what happened tonight, or leave and lay down in the hospital wing. Dumbledore's word, which involved Harry staying put, prevailed.

Immediately after the issue of where Harry should be was settled, Dumbledore commanded Snape to fetch his most powerful truth serum, then Winky from the kitchens, and to bring them both back to him. He turned and left the office, heading for his own. Snape looked through his store of Veritaserum, flinching when he saw the several vials produced by Hermione herself, and took one of his older, more mature renditions. He then rushed to the kitchens, finding the hopelessly lost and drunken Winky and taking her to the office where Dumbledore now stood. Minerva returned right after him.

When he looked in and saw the fair-haired, freckled man Stunned on the ground, Snape gasped and stopped in the doorway. "Crouch! Barty Crouch!" He tore his eyes from the man and wasted no time in handing Dumbledore the Veritaserum. Dumbledore stood and, after putting the man into a sitting position, forced three droplets of the potent potion into his mouth, then pointed his wand at him and said, "_Ennervate_."

The man roused. Dumbledore commanded him to tell his story of escape from Azkaban. He relayed how he and his mother switched places and staged a fake funeral, after which he remained under an Invisibility Cloak with Winky as his caretaker.

Dumbledore then asked if anyone else had ever known about his presence under the Cloak. The man explained how Bertha Jorkins had found out about him and how Barty Crouch, Sr. had put a Memory Charm on her and permanently damaged her memory.

Dumbledore implored about the events at the Quidditch World Cup, and Barty Crouch, Jr. explicated how he had sat in the supposedly empty seat Winky saved in the Top Box.

He also explained how he took Harry's wand when Winky had her face buried in her hands, how he had been the one to cast the Dark Mark in the woods, how Voldemort himself had tortured Bertha Jorkins, breaking through the powerful Memory Charm, and had come to seek out his most loyal servant.

Voldemort had needed a liaison inside Hogwarts to guide Harry Potter to the end of the Triwizard Tournament. Barty Crouch, Jr. was that liaison. He had agreed and turned the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey. He had needed Moody's guise, and thus he had captured the real Alastor Moody before he ever had a chance to go to Hogwarts.

Barty Crouch, Jr. went on describing how he had stolen boomslang skin from the potions master's office, and when he was discovered, he simply said he was under orders to search it.

Snape's anger was now at its peak. So he was the one. Mad-Eye Moody… I found him the night Potter was trapped in the stairs, watching us, Snape thought. He scolded himself: he should've felt something was wrong, but his tendency to blame Harry for everything had blinded him. He felt beyond foolish.

The man told how, in the last week of May, he had seen his father enter Hogwarts on the Marauder's Map he had stolen from Potter the night he was trapped in the stairs. He killed his father, transfigured him into a bone, and buried it by Hagrid's cabin. He carried the Triwizard Cup into the maze after turning it into a Portkey. And he believed he would be honored above all other servants by the Dark Lord for his deeds.

Dumbledore ordered Snape to fetch Madam Pomfrey for the real Alastor Moody and Cornelius Fudge to give him a message, and Snape obeyed.

He told Madam Pomfrey to take care of the real Moody. He then set off to summon Cornelius Fudge, whom he found quickly. They encountered Minerva as they neared the impostor's office, and they both explained how they along with Dumbledore had caught the one responsible for the night's events, but were shocked to find that Fudge would not budge further without a dementor at his side. Snape and Minerva looked at each other, as if deciding on something, then begrudgingly allowed Fudge to bring his dementor. They brought him into the office with Barty Crouch, Jr. To Snape and Minerva's horror, however, as soon as the dementor entered the room, it swooped down over Barty Crouch, Jr. Snape rushed forward and was about to summon a patronus, but he was too late: the dementor leaned over and performed the kiss, sucking out Barty Crouch, Jr.'s soul through his mouth. Minerva howled in fury and began shouting at Fudge, but Fudge simply told her the matter was "regrettable", but not all that serious; no one would miss Barty Crouch, Jr.

Snape and Professor McGonagall were visibly appalled, and they escorted Fudge down to the hospital wing, forbidding the dementor to walk with them any further. Professor McGonagall felt the need to yell at the Minister all the way to the hospital wing, and Snape did not blame her in the least. They had just lost their one believable witness that could confirm that Voldemort had returned.

When they found Dumbledore and he asked what was going on, Snape and Professor McGonagall explained to him how Fudge had brought the dementor to where Barty Crouch, Jr. was and had performed the kiss.

From there, a passionate, verbal battle erupted between Dumbledore and Fudge. Fudge indicated his disbelief that Voldemort had been giving orders to the imposter, and denied any responsibility for the man's death. He accused Dumbledore of believing the word of a mere boy about what happened after Harry Potter had touched the Triwizard Cup, and vehemently denied that Voldemort could have possibly returned.

At this, Snape's disbelief was beyond words. He stepped forward in a rush and pulled up his robes' left sleeve, brandishing the Dark Mark in Fudge's face, causing him to gape at it. Snape explained that every Death Eater had this mark, as it was Voldemort's means of summoning his servants. He told how it was no wonder why Karkaroff, one who had abandoned and betrayed so many Death Eaters, had fled when he felt its strength reassert itself.

Snape kept his sleeve raised, but fell silent. His eyes were full of venom as he shot daggers with them at Fudge. Fudge, like the coward he was, looked haunted. He quickly made an excuse for himself that he "had no more to add" and left the hospital wing after crudely dropping the bag of gold that was Harry Potter's winnings onto the boy's bedside table.

As soon as Fudge had left, Dumbledore began doling out commands to Mrs. Weasley, Bill Weasley, Minerva, and Madam Pomfrey. Then, when they all had exited, something curious happened. Dumbledore began speaking to the black dog, calling him Sirius. Snape's eyes shot wide at the mention of his old enemy's name. He stared open-mouthed at the canine.

In the next moment, the black dog transformed into Sirius, and Snape's face stained with rage and the utmost animosity. The loathing between the two men was pungent; it filled the entire room with an aura of malice. Snape scowled in fury as Dumbledore demanded the two men shake hands. Snape stepped forward to grab Sirius's hand, but both of them ended the shake almost as soon as it had begun.

Still aching with loathing toward the man standing in front of him, Snape listened as Dumbledore ordered Sirius to tell a handful of trustworthy allies about what had happened tonight. Snape, knowing what was coming, straightened as Dumbledore turned to face him, impetrating him to do what he must, and asking whether he was ready for the task.

Snape nodded. "I am." He left the room, feeling once more like a man with a purpose. With a sour, self-deprecating and -pitying grin, he realized that having a job to do, no matter how grim, helped relieve the pain he had been feeling for months now, which could only be described as extreme loneliness, as well as regret.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Ceye's note**__: Hey everyone, I'm back! So back to your regularly scheduled programming. =)_

_..._

* 15 *

The Leaving Feast was a wondrous and irritating occasion every year. There was a break from endless grading as well as a temporary solace from having to teach unruly, egoistic students. Snape felt that was all right and good, but it also meant he had to return to where he had come from, which was not a pleasant affair, either. This year, however, the Feast was also something else: saddening.

He caught Harry Potter staring at him. He looked back for only a moment or two, then cast his eyes away.

Dumbledore stood and commenced his end-of-the-year speech, making sure to give formal voice to the tragedy that Cedric Diggory was now gone. Everyone in the hall stood and raised their goblets, including Snape, at the headmaster's command, and stated a mournful, "Cedric Diggory," before sitting down again. Dumbledore proceeded to tell the Great Hall, earnestly and honestly, that Diggory had been murdered by Voldemort himself, and that Voldemort had now returned. Over the sound of the rampant muttering that followed this proclamation, Dumbledore encouraged them all to stick together and never lose focus of their common enemy.

Snape, after deducting that Dumbledore was now only telling the students things he himself already knew, let his eyes wander. They wandered over Viktor Krum, and, saving the most heartfelt for last, onto Hermione Granger. She was seated at the Gryffindor table and was looking at Dumbledore, so she did not notice him. Snape stared with forcibly indifferent eyes at the girl, the only student who had ever been his friend. He recalled once again how he had destroyed their friendship out of unprovoked, inexplicable jealousy, and cursed at himself. What he wouldn't do to not have to go through the summer with that dreadful memory… What he wouldn't give to have her in his arms now, just as he had been lucky enough to experience four months previous. He grew a bit embarrassed, but ashamedly imagined the scene in his head, relished it as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She was nestled against his chest and he laid his head on hers, enclosing her in his arms and marveling at the entrancing smell of her hair. At this enlightening visual, he winced as a curious sensation came over him. He was beginning to feel like he felt more toward Hermione Granger than simple friendship.

At this, Snape shook his head, lightly given all the students watching the staff table. He laughed without humor at himself. There was no possible way he had developed a crush on his student.

But as he remembered how it felt to see Viktor Krum return her from the lake, to approach her so closely…he began to have doubts.

...

The fourth years were due to leave from the entrance hall soon. It was a beautiful day outside, but Snape outright ignored this fact, concentrating only on catching a glimpse of Hermione before she was off. When he did, his heart sank to see that Krum was at her side. They both left the group and went off by themselves, and he could only assume Krum had just asked to be alone with her. Snape watched, feeling shattered and alone. He could not make out what they were saying due to the din in the hall and his distance from the two, but they wore very serious expressions, and he would guess they were having a heartfelt goodbye.

Krum suddenly moved closer to Hermione's face, and Snape instinctively closed his eyes, wanting anything but to see his lips touch those of the girl to whom he had grown so close. A few moments later, he opened them again, and they were once again separate. They began heading back toward their group, and Snape sighed. He witnessed Krum shaking hands with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. At the last second, Weasley called something after Krum, and Krum wrote something down on a piece of parchment, handing it to the embarrassed-looking redhead. Snape deduced it was an autograph, and rolled his eyes, though his mind took no advantage of the humorous situation as it normally would. His eyes fastened unfaltering on Hermione yet again. The carriages were now at the end of the drive, ready for the students to enter.

With one last look, Snape memorized the face of the girl who had come so close to him but been forced away by his own pride. His Hermione climbed into the carriage, and soon she was out of sight.

…

_**Ceye's note**__: And a-marching we go onto book five starting next chapter!_


	16. Chapter 16

**The Order of the Phoenix**

* 16 *

That summer was the darkest yet for Severus Snape. Never before had he lamented a break from teaching as much as he had that summer. His days were filled with long hours of reading, his mind teeming with thoughts of magical theory, potion recipes, and something far more sinister: he had begun burying himself even more fervently than usual in texts detailing the Dark Arts, though he felt guilty for delving into them as eagerly as he had in his youth, which had had many consequences on his future life…

He had joined the Order of the Phoenix, a society of the "good guys" aiming to end Voldemort's reign of terror once and for all. He stood now inside Number 12, Grimmauld Place, holding a meeting to speak to the other members of the Order.

Number 12 was a peculiar building in the middle of Muggle domain, locked invisibly between Numbers 11 and 13. The non-magic folk outside where some twenty-some wizards now sat thought, with much amusement, that there had simply been a numbering mistake, and paid no attention to the nothingness that was Number 12. This was the Order's headquarters and, to Snape's great dismay, it was also the house of Sirius Black.

To make matters worse, there was a witch in the Order household whose very presence dampened his spirits (though they had never been particularly high): Hermione Granger. He had had to avoid her gaze and dodge her in the halls whenever the Order met for a month now. It was quite a miserable affair, for he still felt a strong pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach when his eyes met hers in the occasional moment he caught himself staring at her and she caught him.

On August 6th, Harry Potter came to Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Molly Weasley ran out of the kitchen to greet him, showed him to his room (and to where Ron and Hermione were), and returned to the meeting. Snape scoffed at the news of the boy's arrival, but knew it was to happen sooner or later. He continued speaking to the members of the Order as if no insolent, scar-faced little boy had arrived at all.

When the meeting was finished, Snape wasted no time. He left through the front entrance and, taking care not to be seen in his long, black robes, vacated the Muggle town.

...

September 1st had arrived. The entrance hall of Hogwarts was ablaze with torchlight and a tumult of the sounds of approaching feet. Snape sat in the Great Hall, listening to the boisterous footsteps that warned of an incoming flock of students. It was time for the start-of-term feast, which had always been of interest to Snape, not only for the return of delicious and rich food to his diet, but it was also the time during which the Sorting Hat decided which House each new student would enter. For the first time in what seemed like years, Snape had the chance to look at Hermione without her catching him; there was far too much going on in the Great Hall for her to pay attention to _him_ of all things, he thought with a tinge of sadness.

He saw as Hermione and her friends' eyes came upon Dolores Umbridge, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher (Snape had been denied the post for fourteen years, for no lack of him applying for it each and every year). He had completely forgotten about her but, as he turned and the brightness of her flashy pink cardigan near blinded him, he couldn't understand how he had managed to do so. Yes, he thought, Potter and his friends are in for a surprise with this slave of the Ministry. She had already proven to be an intolerable bigot.

Snape immediately cringed at his own phrase, remembering that it had been those exact words with which Hermione had dismissed him… He looked back to the Gryffindor table where Hermione sat.

Now that Snape thought of it (he had been vehemently ignoring the topic before now), he _could_ see himself as an "intolerable bigot".

Snape's breath caught in his throat as her eyes now scanned the staff table. He was sure she had seen him staring at her, and he cursed himself. He had been so confident he wouldn't get caught this time, but thanks to the blinding and attention-getting visage of the toad-like woman sitting beside him, he was found yet again.

Foiled, Snape turned his eyes on the double doors leading into to the Great Hall just as they opened. Minerva McGonagall entered the Hall, followed by a line of frightened-looking first-years. Minerva carried a stool upon which the Sorting Hat was perched.

The Great Hall quieted and the Sorting Hat, sensing the time for its performance, began to sing.

Unlike in last year's song, the Sorting Hat had chosen to take its time this year to entreat its audience to stick together in such dark times as today. The rumor that the Dark Lord has returned was the subject of the Sorting Hat's plea, and it attempted to make this fact clear to the students.

Applause raised the volume in the room several notches, but the Hall was nowhere near as loud as it usually was; the Sorting Hat's song had been received with much doubt and mumbling. Minerva left the Hall with the Hat and stool in hand, and the feast began after a quick tidbit from Dumbledore.

When the students had finished, Dumbledore rose and threw a veil of silence over the Hall once more; he offered the usual start-of-term announcements as well as informed the students of the arrival two members of staff: Professor Grubbly-Plank, who had served as a substitute for Hagrid in Care of Magical Creatures and was now back to fill his post for an indefinite amount of time, and the showy and ugly Professor Umbridge.

Snape clapped out of obligation, but he in truth couldn't have been more disgusted by the pink frog of a professor who had gotten the Defense Against the Dark Arts job instead of him.

Then, the most annoying sound Snape had ever heard attacked his ears. Professor Umbridge cleared her throat with a ridiculous "_Hem, hem_," and, in doing so, interrupted Dumbledore's speech. Snape was aghast. His mouth hung open in horror at her audacity and blatant disrespect.

The unashamed woman launched into an extensive and downright inappropriate lecture about how "progress for progress's sake must be discouraged." Her rant could shortly be described as a warning that Hogwarts was now being watched, and she was the watchdog. She reported to the Ministry, and likely had no interest in the actual education of the students at the school.

Snape would normally not be opposed to being accused of acting indifferent and unconcerned toward students, either, except in this case it marked a similarity between him and that God-awful fluffy-cardigan-wearing mistake of a woman, which was be far beyond merely insulting.

When Snape's thoughts returned to normal; that is, when his mind began forcing his eyes to scour the Hall for Hermione again, he was disappointed that she was nowhere to be found.


	17. Chapter 17

* 17 *

When he woke the next morning, Snape was incredibly bothered. His heart was beating straight out of his chest in trepidation for the upcoming double Potions lesson, the first of the year, as well as the first time Hermione Granger would actually _have_ to listen to him after what had been a long and agonizing summer. He didn't know if this was something to look forward to or deeply panic about.

He spent his time in the Great Hall deliberately ignoring every urge to look at Hermione. He would soon see her for two periods straight, and he still had to decide how he was going to react if she was still terribly upset by the poor treatment of her friends in his class, let alone his treatment of her in March. When they had been on good terms, she seemed to turn a mostly blind eye to his relentless attacks on her classmates.

But Harry Potter, Snape realized, did not deserve pity simply because his scholarly friend Hermione thought he was a charming, innocent young man. No, he was as insolent as his father, and his redheaded partner in crime was almost just as mischievous, though admittedly far less fun to pick on.

In his dungeons a few hours later, Snape was ready to face her, or so he thought. His dungeon door creaked open and the students leaked in. As always, Hermione and her two friends sat in the table farthest from him. When everyone was inside, Snape closed the door and demanded their attention as always merely by gliding over to his desk at the front of the room.

He took time at the beginning of his lesson to lecture them on the importance of exemplary scores on their Potions O.W.L. If they were not incredibly successful, translating to if they received anything lower than "Outstanding" on their exams, then they would surely not be worthy of his N.E.W.T. class.

He went on to describe the first potion they would be attempting in the new year: the Draught of Peace. There was an incredibly intricate recipe to follow for its accurate procurement, and to Snape's delight, Hermione finally seemed to be focusing on his every word with the utmost of her spectacular listening power. He faltered for a moment, then twitched his wand this way and that, writing the directions on the blackboard and causing the door of his storage cupboard to swing open. With just the word "Start," they busied themselves in his cupboard and began attempting to brew the complex potion their professor had assigned.

With ten minutes left, Snape decided to survey the progress at the Table of Two Idiots. He swept down upon their desk, and with hardly a surprised expression, stared down at the surface of Hermione's flawless potion. He smirked inwardly. Glancing over the work of Harry and Ron, however, almost physically pained him.

"Potter, what is this?"

"The Draught of Peace…"

"Are you able to read, Potter?" Snape mocked bitterly.

"Yes…"

"Kindly tell me what you have done wrong by reading line three on the blackboard," said Snape, tentatively risking a glance in Hermione's direction.

When he obeyed his professor's order, Harry's face lit with sudden insight.

"Do you see?" Snape prodded.

"I didn't add the hellebore," Harry answered with a look of disheartenment and utter disdain.

"Indeed. This…_creation_…is worthless. _Evanesco!_"

Harry's work disappeared, and the bespectacled student was visibly fuming. Snape smirked and instructed the rest of the class to bring their samples to his desk to be tested. He assigned them twelve inches of parchment on moonstone that was to be due their next lesson. If being honest with himself, he did this out of a desire to hear Hermione's thoughts, no matter the content, and to read her handwriting, which was guaranteed to be more interesting than what he had had his nose buried in over the long, lonely summer.

...

That night there was much whispering echoing through the Great Hall. Snape clandestinely tuned in, and the hair on his neck stood on end when he detected a vocable that clearly sounded like "Harry Potter". What had the Grand Hero of Hogwarts done this time? Whatever it was, it must have been awfully intriguing, because almost everyone had their eyes on Harry and their expressions were not simply curious, excited, or angry, but instead appeared to be a mixture of all three, depending upon whose face one examined. Snape strained his ears further.

As soon as he heard the phrases "…in that lady Umbridge's class," "He really thinks he's back!" and "Who does he think he's kidding?" Snape thought he had a pretty good idea what had gone on. Harry must've had a tantrum in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, no doubt instigated by Umbridge's twisted and ridiculously unhelpful method of teaching. However, it seemed that the outburst had not been about her teaching, but rather about Voldemort. _Very curious…as well as very dangerous, _thought Snape.

Harry's face grew red and he put down his knife and fork. He seemed to be talking to his friends—though all Snape could see were his clenched teeth—because Ron and Hermione were beholding him with countenances that changed from wistfulness to frustration. Hermione said something, and all three of them stood and left the Great Hall, Ron eyeing his leftover apple pie mournfully over his shoulder.

It seems the gossip was too much for them, observed Snape.

He turned to Professor McGonagall. "Minerva, what exactly happened in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom today?"

"Oh, that," Professor McGonagall returned in a small voice. "Well…Harry lost his temper with Dolores and insisted that the students need to know how to perform Dark magic in order to fight against it, something that, as you know, she does not allow…" Her lips hung in a small, perturbed "o", recalling the situation. "She inquired as to who would possibly want to harm the children, and he mentioned…You-Know-Who…" She sighed. "I told him to be extremely cautious in the future."

Snape snorted. "That won't happen." He raised his goblet to his lips.

But as Professor McGonagall gave him a pained look and he turned to again face the students, he became increasingly worried: he had thought that Harry had simply shouted at Professor Umbridge for being incompetent, but he had instead directly mentioned Voldemort… This was not good. If the child could not keep his mouth shut…

Snape scowled. Potter would be able to keep his lips sealed for no longer than the weekend; he was sure about that.


	18. Chapter 18

* 18 *

Snape was positioned oddly over his desk in the dungeon. He had been staring at the top of a considerable pile of parchment, pacing, thinking, and then hovering over the parchment again. At the top was a name scrawled in a beautiful hand.

Hermione's essay was the first in the pile.

He read the essay and attempted to grade it first before allowing himself to pay much attention to her handwriting, covering Hermione's name with his fingers and trying to read through without stopping. Despite it being hers, he could not give it better marks than the others if it was of comparable quality. So far, the papers had been abysmal, and he had been put in a very bad mood because of it. He had saved hers for last, however, and was now being soothed by the swift strokes of ink that reminded him so much of her. Her handwriting reflected everything he remembered about her: the simple strokes reminded him of her practicality, and emphasis was put on several words by marking each with italics.

Snape pitied himself for fawning over a girl's piece of parchment like this…but he had been extremely lonely. He had been used to being alone and devoid of friends for some twenty years, and then Hermione had come, reawakening his ability to care for another person. Now that she was gone again, all he could do is marvel at anything that brought him back to those evenings more than half a year ago when he had held her in his arms.

Snape shivered at the memory that held so much power over his head.

...

On Monday, Snape handed back the class's moonstone essays. He had graded them according to O.W.L. standards, and thus the student body as a whole did not perform very well. He had scrawled a huge "D" on Harry's dreadful piece of parchment, for example.

Then he came to Hermione. He had only given her an "A" for Acceptable, for his grading criteria for this essay were quite strict. Instead of thrusting it at her as he had done to Harry, Snape placed the parchment in front of her, being sure not to linger long for fear of curious, prodding student eyes. When he was through, he glided back to the front of the class and lectured them about their substandard performance. He dearly hoped the marks on their next essay would not be as disappointing. He also hoped that Hermione wasn't too bitter at having received merely an "A"; he surely couldn't go easy on her simply because she was…well, her: a teenage girl who seemed to elicit from him great weakness. Under the cover of making eye contact with each member of his class, Snape risked sweeping over her with his eyes.

Then it happened: their eyes met for more than a mere nanosecond for the first time in months. Hermione's were unblinking. His were straining to hold her gaze after having been trained all summer to avoid it. For a split second, his cruel demeanor faltered and he was silent, standing at the front of his class with a slightly weakened expression plastered on his face. He wondered how obvious this change of countenance was to Hermione. She was still looking back at him.

Noticing that his foible was manifesting itself in front of the entire class, Snape's heart began to pound. His eyes flitted away from hers so his students wouldn't look in the direction he was staring. "Right then," he recovered, gathering his wits, "the instructions for today's potion are on the blackboard. Get to work." When the class became busy garnering their ingredients and starting on the assignment, he looked back at her. She had looked away and was huddled with the other students.

Snape's heart was beating so fast he felt he must do something to distract himself. He couldn't risk losing it like that in front of Hermione and the entire class again, so instead of pacing about the classroom as per the usual, he resigned himself to pretending to read a text at his desk. He hid behind it.

He read the same sentence over at least twenty times, grasping the information as much as he would if it was written in a foreign language. He had not bargained for her mere gaze to demolish his confidence entirely.

...

Snape was tired. He had been worn down through several Potions classes' worth of Hermione producing a perfect sample and him not being able to do anything except grade her well on it. They never discussed her strengths or even communicated at all anymore, especially not after class, and Snape pinpointed with a scowl that his poor mood as of late was due to having been exposed to actual conversation with her at a time that seemed so long ago, something of which he was now sourly deprived.

If they had only never gotten close to begin with… If only he had never invited her to stay with him after classes to receive extra lessons… He would be fine right now. He lived his entire life being fine, nothing more. He was in a perpetual state of displeasure with _everything_. She had given him a reason to hold his head high, if only for a few months. Perhaps she had just seen him as a generic adult figure, fit to get close to because of a deeper maturity than the others she dealt with. Perhaps it was entirely his fault for asking her to stay after class that he felt this way now.

Snape stiffened. Why was everything his fault? Was he himself, and how he handled life's trickier situations and hardships, really the cause of all of his own pain and suffering? He had attempted to do something in a fit of loneliness that ended up proving that he too could enjoy life, even if only a little at the beginning. But it had made him feel far worse than before it had begun when it was over. What was the point of feeling positive for a change if it made him crash inextricably and unbearably afterward?


	19. Chapter 19

* 19 *

It was the 7th of October, and the dreaded, pink-cardigan-donning Dolores Umbridge was to inspect Snape's double Potions lesson that afternoon, coming to his attention by way of an ugly pink note found on his desk that morning.

Chances were that all of his students would be far more amused than frightened to see their professor cope with her nagging questions that served as intelligence to the Ministry of Magic on how successful Hogwarts teachers were according to "their standards". Snape didn't truly care what Professor Umbridge thought, but he could not deny that she now had power as Hogwarts' High Inquisitor.

Shrugging any worry about the deleterious and annoying frog off, Snape closed the dungeon door and the class was silent. He gave a nod to the fact that they had a guest in class today, then quickly got them started on continuing their Strengthening Solutions from the previous lesson. About one-third of the way into double Potions, Professor Umbridge strolled over to Snape and complimented how advanced his class was, but also remarked that the Strengthening Solution should be removed from the syllabus.

He, who had been inspecting the work of Dean Thomas, straightened without a word and looked at her with a mixture of hate, annoyance, and forced indifference. When she asked him how long he had been teaching at Hogwarts, he replied, "Fourteen years." Snape had been twenty-one and three years out of his schooling at Hogwarts when he first got his job as Potions Master.

She then prodded one of his sore spots: she asked him to affirm that he had originally applied for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. He agreed very quietly.

"And you were unsuccessful?" she prodded unnecessarily.

Snape grimaced. "Obviously." He heard Ron snort.

"And you've continued applying each year for that post?"

"Yes." He had no idea what she was getting at, but she was quickly becoming more unpopular with him than Harry Potter himself.

"Why has he refused you?"

"Why don't you ask him?" Snape snapped, irritation coating his glare.

"Oh, I will, I will," she said ominously, scribbling down notes onto her parchment, seemingly unaware of the daggers of his glare.

"Is this relevant?" he inquired in a collected yet tired voice.

"Of course, my dear!" Snape flinched at this pet name. "The Ministry would like a full report on each professor and their…various backgrounds…"

With his nostrils flaring, Snape looked over at Harry, a person he was beginning to dislike less when compared to the toad who had just interrogated him with the utmost disrespect. Nonetheless, he still felt a meager flare of joy when he saw the contents of Harry's cauldron.

"Once again, Potter, no marks." He waved his wand and Harry's work disappeared. "You will be writing me an essay to be handed in next lesson about how to correctly produce this potion and why you were so incredibly poor at doing so. Understood?"

Harry was fuming when he, between his teeth, answered, "Yes." Snape felt a bit more satisfied, but his smirk slipped from his face when he saw Hermione glaring daggers at him. He swallowed, shifting his eyes away from Harry and quietly moving to the front of the room as they all left.

...

Snape was in a particularly sour mood that 4th of November. The Slytherins had lost the Quidditch match on Saturday against Gryffindor, and Harry as well as Fred and George Weasley had been banned from playing Quidditch. Normally Gryffindor students leaving their belligerent attitudes on display and getting punished for it pleased him greatly. However, he didn't get any satisfaction out of Slytherin's team playing against an opponent that wasn't even good anymore, and with the best three members of the Gryffindor team having been dismissed, future matches were almost certain to be lackluster.

Snape had finally been able to learn to control his gaze. During double Potions that afternoon, he managed to look at Hermione only once at the beginning of class. He cheated very seldom these days, and then it was only for a second or two before he again cast his eyes away.

When the bell rang, the class turned in their potion samples to their professor. Most of the Gryffindors looked rather downcast and left in low spirits. Harry and Ron were so busy bickering with the other Gryffindors about how unfair Harry's dismissal had been that they did not notice Hermione wasn't trailing them out the door.

But Snape did. It was time for lunch, and here Hermione was, staying back in his class. Her head was facing down toward the top of her desk, so he could not read her expression. Troubled, he wondered what he should do.

_Approach her, or leave her be?_ he debated, all of his meticulous practice over many months of not staring at her melting away in mere picoseconds.

Against his better instincts, Snape very slowly and cautiously walked over to Hermione. Hearing his footsteps, and seemingly being brought to reality, Hermione turned her eyes up to her professor. They were blotchy and red.

"Miss Granger?" he asked gently, a curious expression on his face. He thought he would have to relearn how to soften his demeanor when facing her, but it happened so naturally that it surprised him greatly.

"Professor… I'm sorry, I spaced out…" Hermione began packing up, looking the very definition of flustered.

Snape nodded. "Understandable. You finished rather early."

To Hermione's great amazement, he was not mocking her and her sign of weakness. Her bag was packed now, but she did not stand up. Instead, she put her elbows on her desk and sighed hopelessly.

Something tugged on Snape's heart strings, and he could feel the icy barrier that had been reforming over his heart bit by bit begin to fracture. "Miss Granger," he repeated even gentler than before. He wanted to hold her. His skin burned everywhere she had once touched him, so that his torso became a mass of athirst, desirous flesh.

She met his eyes again.

Snape faltered for a moment, not knowing if he should proceed. Deciding that he didn't know what else to do, he asked, in an almost inaudible murmur, "What is ailing you?"

Hermione's face shone with surprise. She sputtered, "Oh, well… I just have been a little down lately… Things have been happening…"

"What 'things'?" He felt timid. He risked producing a chair and sitting down upon it beside her.

It was as if a volcano had been honing its power, awaiting the perfect moment to erupt. Hermione began talking in an absolute flood of words: "Well, Harry and Fred and George have been taken off the Quidditch team, you know, which is terrible news for us…but also, Hagrid is back, which is great, but he seems a bit discouraged about teaching. I stayed with him last night to plan his first lesson back for him, but that took ages…"

She stopped for a second, unsure if she should have revealed that last bit, but ended up continuing, "And Professor Umbridge's class has been dreadful and boring because I've already read through the entire book and she only tells me to shove it if I raise my hand and ask her what else I can do. Since she puffs up viciously even at the mere sight of a wand in her classroom, I can't practice doing anything. I just sit there and think of the numerous other things I could be doing with my time…"

Hermione thought for a moment, then went on, with her eyes downturned, "And then things have been so shaky with you…as well as…"

Until this point, Snape had been listening calmly and intently to every word. At this, however, his eyes shot wide. "...What?" his eloquent lips almost stuttered over her against his egoistic will, not allowing her to continue until she clarified that last bit.

Hermione heaved another sigh. Her face was downcast as she mumbled, "I haven't been doing as well as I'd hoped on your essays, and I feel that you're starting to dislike me as much as you do Harry."

Snape didn't know what to say.

Figuring the first part of her comment was far easier to respond to than the last, he reassured her, "The essays are a minor issue… There is plenty of time to improve; you were at 'Acceptable' at the beginning of this year a mere two months ago, and you are now receiving an 'Excellent' on the majority of your assignments. If you continue your progress, surely you will reach 'Outstanding' before your O.W.L.s."

Hermione finally smiled, which lifted one weight of several from Snape's shoulders. "I'm glad you think so." However, she continued to look dejected when her lips went limp again.

"And I do not hold the same grudge toward you as I do Mr. Potter," Snape reassured her with unwavering fervor. This declaration could not be closer to the truth.

Hermione only nodded. "I just feel like a lot is going on and I want to be sure that I'm making all the right choices and doing all that I can to prevent a bad outcome…" Snape wasn't sure what she was talking about, but he felt sympathetic nonetheless. Hermione wasn't one to regularly worry herself to the point of staying after class and staring blankly at her desk. Something was clearly awry, but he wasn't sure how, or even if, he could help.

They stayed for a minute in complete silence. Then, Snape stated with utter confidence yet awkward formality, "Continue…telling me why you're upset." It was more of a command than a suggestion.

Hermione, instead of doing as he said, gave him a look. Snape could only describe it with the word "magnificent": it had such entrancing power over him, and made his eyes wholly unable to move from her face. Then, she fell limp.

Snape caught her anxiously, but when he had her in his arms, he noticed she wasn't hurt or weak at all; she was still holding herself up, but some of her weight was now on him.

With a shock, Snape realized that she was leaning against him, just as she used to. For the first time in eight months, Hermione was nestled against him. It was as if the pain and misunderstanding from those egregiously painful months didn't just slink under the surface, but entirely evaporated from the depths of his soul.

A little unsure but with heart-pounding hope that it'd be okay, Snape draped his arms around her front, putting no pressure behind them. He didn't want to be too touchy for he already had more than he could ask for in that moment. Snape completely forgot that Hermione was supposed to continue her story or face his wrath, and grinned, choosing to drop it. She didn't seem to want to talk more right now, and Snape couldn't say he minded. He looked at the clock: there were twenty minutes until she had to leave for Ancient Runes.

Hermione's mouth formed around what looked like the beginning of another sentence, but then she gave up and settled with a sleepy "Mmm…"

Snape chuckled, his humor returned, and looked down into her precious face. "You don't appear to have gotten much rest this morning." He was exploring the subject cautiously, careful not to annoy her at such a tremendous turning point for his emotional well-being.

She simply shook her head, not wishing to speak. They remained silent. She didn't once look at the clock during the time they sat together, which made Snape feel good. It meant she trusted him to keep track of things when she felt like being lazy or inattentive to the world for a bit. He would be sure to get her to her class on time, though he wasn't happy about having to give up this position to do it.

Snape noticed that she began nodding off to sleep just as she had done so long ago. With a sad smile, Snape watched, cherishing every second, knowing he would have to wake her in only a few minutes even if she did manage to rest there. She fell unconscious within about a minute, which made the professor warm with feeling as well as desperately unwilling to wake her.

A short three minutes later, and with a heavy sigh, Snape rocked back and forth on the seat, wanting to rouse her gently. He whispered her name, and Hermione's eyes started blinking themselves back into sensation, exhausted and droopy. She turned into him playfully and whined, "I don't wanna go; I'm tired," her voice half muffled by his cloak.

Snape's whole body filled with laughter. It was at her silliness and obvious unwillingness to leave his arms, but it also felt like a total release of cooped up emotions that had been plaguing him for months on end.

It took her only a few seconds to get serious and begin to try and untangle herself from him. Regrettably, that meant that he now had to let her go. He did, and she stood and walked over to the dungeon door.

"You must rest better tonight; my orders," said Snape. She left the room, glancing back over her shoulder to smile at him once more.

His head was spinning when the dungeon door again closed. Had he just snapped out of a daydream?


	20. Chapter 20

* 20 *

The week passed by agonizingly slowly for Snape. He could not wait until Thursday when he would see Hermione again. After having been submerged for more than half a year, his latent excitement finally burst at the seams in full force. He was finally eagerly awaiting something again.

He wasn't expecting to be able to keep her close to him as he did last time, but he did look forward to having a full class's worth of time to sit back at his desk and watch her, this time without worrying that she hated him. The students were normally too busy after the instructions were put on the board to notice where their professor was looking, and this thought relieved Snape's nerves about his line of sight being linked to the bushy-haired girl in at the back table.

And then it came. Sweet Thursday. Snape woke an hour earlier than usual in his jubilance and decided to utilize the extra time to take a stroll on the castle grounds. It was quite chilly outside, so he wrapped two dark gray scarves snug around his neck and dug his hands into the pockets of his flowing black cloak. He descended the stone steps and traced the snow in a straight line in front of him with his eyes, alert to every twinkle and impression in the morning twilight. He could picture Hermione's face in the glittering snow, turned up toward his and giving him a shy smile. He grinned, feeling jittery as he walked further.

He would be able to see her today before lunch. It was amazing the ramifications this knowledge had on his state of mind. He felt again as if he had purpose, and he was far less irritable than the norm. He may spend today waltzing about his class as per the usual, but he didn't have the heart to criticize everyone, especially not the Gryffindors, as harshly as before. He was coming to realize…that there was really nothing wrong with Gryffindors.

Snape stopped for a moment in the snow, his eyes glazing over with shock as he turned his concentration entirely to what was being debated now in his mind. Did he really feel that Gryffindor was no worse than any other House? Was this due only to Hermione, or had it also come about because he had stopped searching so desperately for something to poke fun at in every Gryffindor's cauldron, and thus their mistakes blended in with those of the others in the room who had made tantamount errors? Or had Hermione been the one to make him notice this to begin with?

But more than anything, Snape was shocked that he did not mind his hatred of Gryffindor melting away. The snake began loosening its hold around the poor griffin's neck, for the griffin was now no more unappealing than the badger or the raven, whereas before it had possessed menacing, red eyes and sharp, poised talons, ready to swoop down upon him. Such was the demeanor of the Marauders in Snape's youth, and since then, he had come to associate the entire House with their treachery and malice. But was this association fair?

He began walking again, now wholly encased by his thoughts, and not intending to return to Hogwarts until it was breakfast time. Not until he figured out…just _how much_ Hermione had changed in him with a single, long-awaited touch.


	21. Chapter 21

* 21 *

Snape was still immersed in thought even after breakfast had ended that morning. He remained that way even in his dungeon. There was so much to rethink, so much to analyze, and so many old connections that needed to be broken for newer ones to be forged. He looked up just as the clock chimed to tell him his Hermione was on her way to his classroom. He stood up instinctively, not wanting anyone to block his view as he stared out the dungeon door to catch that first glimpse of her as she walked in. The minutes dragged on, but then, it happened. She entered and, not even bothering to hide it, smiled at him. The heart of his that had already been beating frantically now slid back on its haunches and began performing nothing short of back flips.

How could he teach today? He couldn't even muster the few words required to tell the students to read the board. Thankfully, after having been in his class for so long, they started their assignment even despite the silence that pervaded the room.

As if he had never seen them before, Snape glided through the tables in the classroom and inspected the progress of his students. Finally, he assessed them without bias based on their House: he did not even allow himself to look into their faces before he mentally graded their cauldrons as they went along. As he did and at the same time did not expect, the Gryffindors were on par with the rest of the class. He had simply given them more of a devil of a time in the past, without much justification. It was as if a whole new world opened up to him. He was beginning to think semi-positively.

Hermione must have noticed some change in his behavior, because she was eyeing him with a smirk. The sly look she gave him electrified him. It was mischievous and satisfied, as if he had been completely smitten under her spell exactly according to plan, or maybe he was just imagining things. Without even bothering to ensure he wasn't being watched, he grinned back, running his eyes once over her unabashedly. Reluctantly, but giving her a widening grin first, Snape turned around and focused on the work of the students in front of him instead of ogling the girl in the back.

It felt beyond words to be able to socialize, even through silent body language, with Hermione again. He couldn't believe it. He knew now that the last thing he wanted to do was chastise her for something stupid as he did in March, causing the feelings that had plagued him for the past eight months to resurface. He should be able to control his tantrums, especially when it came to a person so precious to him.

It was as if he had gained a tremendous amount of confidence from their most recent, benign interaction. He began to oversee his class in a new light: Hermione was remarkably the only one looking at him, when he had been sure in the past that eyes had been glued to him due to his nerves. This time, however, there was an utter calm that soothed him and made him truly alert to how unobservant the students were about their professor's actions and feelings. He was able to spend the entire period gazing at her and studying her progress without any curious eyes flitting to him. His students were perhaps even afraid of meeting his eyes. He had never noticed the superior, imposing aura he gave off in his classroom as much as he did now, when he was least concerned with its presence. The nebulous worries that had lingered in his mind for so long evaporated, and the world felt as if it were his.

Snape couldn't understand this abrupt, pulsating surge of energy and confidence, but he didn't care. He suddenly knew now that he wanted to make Hermione, the girl who had made him realize so much in such a short time, his, no matter what it would take.


	22. Chapter 22 - T

* 22 *

Snape ventured out onto the castle grounds for another winter walk that Saturday. His conviction in what he desired to do had not faded away in the slightest; in fact, it had strengthened as he slowly began to grasp how good he had been feeling because of her closeness. He walked with his head high and acted with slower, surer movements in whatever he now undertook. His hands were snug in his coat pockets. The snow glittered up at him, and the pleased glint in his eyes reflected back.

While he felt sure of himself, he did not feel cocky or unreasonable as that fool James Potter had. Snape took a minute to appreciate the difference between realistic and unrealistic pride, and was glad to say that while he had felt the latter before, he knew in this moment more of the former. He was aware of his limits; they were simply stretched out farther than they had been before.

All this…all from a woman, a girl. He grinned. He saw her face in the snow again, the icy ground mirroring his thoughts, but when he glanced up, he gasped. The image at his feet had not been an illusion, but a reflection: she was physically there in front of him, settled down in the snow and looking out over the lake.

"Hermione!" he called, surprised for a moment, but quickly settling into utter contentment.

She turned in the direction of his voice and gasped. "Professor!" She had been wearing an uncharacteristically frigid expression no doubt frozen on her normally soft face by the cold air. When she glimpsed Snape, however, a smile warmed her features, returning to him the Hermione he knew.

She stood up to meet him, and he approached her with an uncanny air of admiration and determination.

"Why are you out here?" Snape asked, looking into her kind eyes with a reciprocating convivial expression.

Hermione blushed at the soft concentration on her professor's face. She thought curiously, He looks…different… He's more graceful, and his dark cloak, the way it flutters and glitters with snowflakes, now makes him look more like a figure of nobility than a bat.

After a few moments, she answered, as if breaking out of a dream, "Well, it was beautiful out this morning." She gestured to the lake, wanting him to appreciate the magnanimous sight as much as she had. "Isn't it lovely?" The lake shimmered in response and reflected back their standing figures, and Hermione realized how closely she was positioned next to Snape. Her insides began to feel warm.

Snape looked where she instructed and agreed after a long glance. "It is."

The silence around the lake was complete: the creatures under the water were huddled together by species to keep warm, and no one else was out in the snow beside them.

"What are you out here for?" Hermione asked. Snape heard the quiet voice from his side and he turned his face to hers again.

"I've been taking walks outside the castle quite frequently as of late."

"Oh? Any reason why?" she prodded slyly and without shame.

He grinned. "I've been thinking."

Hermione felt a burst of courage, and didn't feel like hiding her cooped up ruminations anymore.

"I have too."

Snape blinked and slid his hands out of his pockets. Her response was totally unexpected, but he quickly regained composure, asking, "Thinking about what?"

"About you."

Snape froze, lips slightly parted. He didn't know what to say.

Hermione continued after a long, dramatic pause, "I miss our private potions lessons." Her face betrayed genuine lament.

"There's no need for that. All you must do to reinstate them is ask."

She suddenly grabbed his hands in her gloves and blinked up carefully into his gentle dark eyes as if she were about to propose something very personal.

"Will you please teach me in extra potions lessons again, Severus?"

It was as if Hermione had simply, innocuously flipped a switch.

Severus, without regard to being nearly twenty years her senior as well as her professor, rushed forward due to a sudden, overpowering and unseen force, and caught her soft, supple lips with his own, slowing down just before impact to fully appreciate their texture against his.

Hermione's eyes shot wide open, and she stood frozen to the ground for a number of seconds. Surrendering to the softening pressure and allure of his lips, she kissed back, obviously excited but a little uncertain how to proceed due to her relative inexperience.

Luckily, the last thing Snape could be described as at the moment was greedy. He let her take control for a little as to allow her to determine how hard she wanted their lips to press against each other. Hermione opened her mouth at last to let out a small, quivering breath, and Snape pulled back. He looked at her very seriously.

"Yes."

Hermione could barely meet his eyes. She looked down at the ground for several seconds before finally chancing a quick glance into his face. Her face shone beautifully with a heartfelt yet shy smile.

The second their eyes met, Snape pulled her close and interlocked their lips again. He slid his arms around her waist and enveloped her in a tight embrace as she began to kiss back anew. Hermione was growing bolder, and began opening her mouth to lock her lips to one of his, alternating between upper and lower.

Wanting to proceed carefully, but with maddening desire now, Snape gently licked her lips, testing the waters. When he felt her begin to reciprocate and wrap her mouth around his tongue, he then delved inside her mouth.

Hermione shuddered and nuzzled her face closer to his, feeling shy and inexperienced. This, however, didn't matter to Snape, as he was, too. She flushed with excitement. Hermione spread her lips a bit more to allow him fuller access, and her eyes began to close as she experienced shudder after shudder of novel yet intense desire for the man kissing her.

Snape took full advantage of her parted lips, exploring her mouth slowly but intently and garnering great pleasure from her shivers being stifled against his body. He pressed into her, tilting her head backward by putting more force behind his kiss. She was visibly floored by the kiss's intensity, and she tried to pant at every opportunity his mouth wasn't wrapped around her lips or tongue. Needing breath, she pulled away and inhaled deeply, regretting immediately that she had done it. Her face was thus stained with seemingly permanent embarrassment at not having been able to breathe during the kiss. She wished she hadn't broken away, but she was also feeling too shy to restart their snogging herself.

"It's okay," Snape laughed, bringing his hand up to brush against her cheek affectionately. Hermione grinned back, her eyes still a little lowered, but steadily gaining confidence now. She had just made out with her professor, and she didn't feel nearly as guilty about it as she would've wagered.

But Snape couldn't stand when she looked away. He took his hand from her cheek and moved it underneath her chin, tilting her face upward so he could lock his eyes on hers. He leaned down to kiss her soft lips one more time, slowly, then pulled back and gave her a genuinely satisfied grin.

Hermione looked shocked at his obvious display of jubilation. Her grin grew to a smile to return it, and she pushed herself forward to nestle her head on his torso. She closed her eyes and felt him rock her gently side to side, and the two of them listened to the silence in the snow.

Snape laid his head on her snowflake-dotted hair, brushing his lips on her part. Then, he carefully unwound his two dark gray scarves and rewrapped them around Hermione and himself. He did the same with his cloak, so that her body was entirely indistinguishable from his save for her head poking out from the top of his scarves.

Hermione felt shielded from the cold in every inch of her body except for her face, though the effect Snape's wrapping her as a present had had was more than purely physical. Emboldened, she pulled back her face and rose to her toes to peck him on the mouth as he had done her. Kissing him was simultaneously relaxing and exhilarating; she was content to stand and be enveloped by his entire attire, but from him she also craved more.

Hermione's face grew hot as she focused on the desire mounting within her as her mouth moved with his. Tied to his lips by their incredible warmth amidst the icy air, she began losing herself in him. She tried to dispel her desire, but to no avail; kissing him and feeling this way were inextricably tied. This knowledge, however, didn't make her any more eager to deny him access.

And so, interpreting her instigation as a green light, Snape continued to snog her, and he took the uncertain turns of her head and the opening and closing of her mouth around his lips to mean she was kissing him back again. He had a better idea of how to kiss from so many years of fantasies, but he was in reality just as unsure and inexperienced as she.

One thing was certain: this encounter was quickly teaching Snape a thing or two about his self-control. The potions master had thought he knew how to keep his primitive urges at bay from so many years of doing so in thought, but faced in real-time with the opportunity to act upon his desire, he found it more than baldly difficult to suppress the heat from within him. Thinking fast, he channeled his passion through his kiss instead of indulging his instinct to press his body hard against hers.

In the distance behind Hermione's head, Snape noticed a number of black flecks (he suspected these were actually a flock of students) begin to make their way back toward the castle. It must be lunchtime, he thought.

But he was not going to let her go so soon. Sure, they'd make it to lunch, but perchance a bit late. He only hoped the keen eyes of the ever-watchful headmaster did not discern Snape's figure and that of Hermione entering the Great Hall simultaneously. No, he couldn't risk that; he would enter sometime after her.

He would worry about that in due time, however. Right now, this moment was his.


	23. Chapter 23 - T

* 23 *

When he could no longer make out any dots moving toward the castle (in his _very_ occasional sweep of the area behind Hermione's head), Snape finally but reluctantly pulled away from Hermione's face, feeling out of breath.

"We are missing lunch," he informed her simply, giving a grin to offset the sudden, pungent feeling of disappointment that now clouded the atmosphere.

"Right, well, we were busy..." Hermione justified weakly. She laughed at her pathetic reply. Realizing they must separate, she was a little sad, but she nodded. Only a second later, however, she was all smiles again. "I really enjoyed this, Severus," she said, blushing furiously.

Snape had begun unwinding his cloak and scarves from around her. At this, he pulled her face to his lips using the scarf and planted a kiss on Hermione's forehead. "As have I," he whispered.

They proceeded toward the castle together for a short while before Snape slowed his pace and Hermione took the lead, arriving at the entrance a good minute before him. She glanced back once, then ascended the stone stairs to the large double doors, her hair bouncing on her shoulders.

Snape utilized the last minute of unmindful walking to look after her and think about what had just transpired by the lake. He looked around once more, verifying no one but he stood in the snow, and let himself loose:

He smiled.

...

Hermione arrived in the Great Hall to tumultuous voices and the clinking of plates and glassware. She indeed loved the feel of Christmastime at Hogwarts every year, but this year in particular she had an even more pronounced spring in her step than usual. She just short of pranced toward her spot by Harry and Ron.

"Hi!" she called jovially to them both.

Ron gave her a look of mingled confusion and disgust. "Why are you so happy? There's no school today," he reminded her testily after a moment.

Hermione simply stuffed her nose up in the air. "I can enjoy weekends, too."

"Since when?" Ron continued with a nasty countenance, but Harry butt in.

"Come on, there's no law against being happy around Christmastime. That Umbridge witch may be here, but we still have the DA. Besides, Hagrid's back!"

"Yes, quite right, _Harry_," Hermione agreed, giving Ron a look of satisfaction and hastily piling shepherd's pie on her plate in an attempt to stuff her face so full that the lingering smell of Severus Snape would disappear from the general vicinity of her mouth. Ron shrugged and dug his fork into his pork chops.

Hermione almost choked when she saw the towering yet graceful black figure of the man she just snogged enter the Hall. She swallowed a bit of beef too fast and began coughing. Ron looked at her again with his mouth hanging open in horror, clearly exasperated and shaking his head at Harry. Harry, amused, chuckled and shrugged.

Thankfully, Snape did not witness her embarrassing mishap, for he was making his way toward the staff table and didn't chance a single glance in her direction.

Sitting down, Snape did not worry for a second about his reappearance being linked with Hermione's. He had extra potions lessons with Hermione again. She had asked him so sweetly...and called him by his first name, which hadn't been done in a very long time. It had set his hormones off, causing his desire to be let loose. No student ever called him by first name, and not even all of the staff could muster the courage to do so, either.

He never would have had the courage to lean forward and kiss her if he hadn't gotten a burst of reassurance days ago when Hermione had touched him again. Now...he _had _kissed her. What had it meant, to her? Snape knew that he had been desirous of feeling her breath on his for awhile. She had been much more open to the idea than he would've thought.

His lips tingled in ardor to explore the novel sensations he was experiencing, physically and mentally. Just one kiss had thrust him into daydreams of pulling Hermione close to him and showering her with affection. Just one kiss had made him feel like the cold barrier he had held up for so long around him was unnecessary.

And just one kiss had made him realize that he hadn't been physically satisfied in a very, very long time.

Taking a moment to reflect on this, Snape shuddered as a whole new lot of sensations assaulted his mind and caused tension to build below his belt. He glared at Hermione with heavy desire tinting his swarthy eyes a hungry dark brown.

Suddenly, he heard Dumbledore clear his throat beside him. Snape was abruptly shaken out of his fantasies. He panicked, unsure of the source of Dumbledore's impromptu movement. Had he caught him staring at a student? He risked a glance in the headmaster's direction.

Catching his eye, Snape thought for a moment that he had been shot with a piercing blue gaze, but it had ended as quickly as it had begun. Did Dumbledore really just look at him, or was his paranoia coming back?

Snape settled back into his chair and composed his features again. He feared they had betrayed his true thoughts about the sweet Gryffindor girl who now was trying to steal a quick glance at him. He cast his eyes downward, not wanting his face to shift once more so tellingly in response to such an enticing and..._warming_ stimulus.


	24. Chapter 24 - T

* 24 *

The following Monday had come. Breakfast was finished. Break had past, and Potions was here.

Snape's heart wouldn't slow. He didn't understand fully his overreaction to Hermione's presence, but he knew that he was evolving into a man with feelings reawakened from so long ago. Every slice students made with their cutting knives pounded in time with his heart, like a sadistic dance that preyed upon his lonely soul, causing his thoughts of Hermione to stir and reminding him of how long he had been starved of affection.

When the bell rang to signal lunch, Hermione firmly stayed where she was. Snape undertook his walk toward her even before all the students had emptied the room. Hermione eyed him with what he interpreted to be an innocent expression, but he felt that she knew how she had been making him feel during the weekend, and was enjoying every second of his torture.

The second that a lingering Draco Malfoy stepped out of the room, Snape leaned over Hermione and gesticulated toward the door. It jerked shut, almost on Malfoy's robes. Snape took no notice.

"What has been on your mind lately?" he immediately inquired of her, interested in articulating whether she had been reveling in his anxiety as of late. He hadn't gotten that much sleep last night because of it.

"On my mind?" she repeated aloud, curious as to his intentions. "I've been thinking about school, of course." A curious grin tugged at her lips and her expression became obfuscated.

Snape wasn't convinced. His right hand reached up to finger a strand of her hair. It sifted through his fingers and was cold to the touch. "You were outside in the snow," he stated plainly, changing the subject. He already knew what she had been thinking about as of late.

"I was with Harry and Ron. They wanted to talk to me about this morning's History of Magic lesson since they didn't hear a word of it, as usual." She rolled her eyes, but they quickly settled back on his face as he drew nearer. "When do we begin our lessons?" she asked innocuously.

"There is not enough time to begin the particular concoction I had in mind now," Snape started. "If you don't mind, we will be meeting Thursday during or after lunch, depending on where you choose to eat."

"I don't mind," Hermione stated reassuringly.

"Good then." Snape pulled up a chair to where she sat, careful to be slightly spaced yet not too far away from her. He didn't want their kiss to interfere with the underlying, blooming friendship between them, and he felt now was the ideal time to dive into casual topics of conversation.

"How is your Arithmancy class?"

"It's great, even though it can be quite a bit of work at times. It's at least a very practical alternative to anything taught in that bogus Divination class," Hermione responded adamantly.

Snape mused. "Really?" He raised a brow. "You've grown a genuine interest in it, then. Most students cannot bear the subject."

Hermione laughed. "They probably just don't like doing basic addition. You see, a person's personality can be represented through the letters of their name. An 'a' is a one, a 'b' is a two, and so on. Once you get to nine, you start over, so the letter 'j' is also a 1. You add these numbers up until they become a single digit. For instance, I'm a four, because the letters in my name represent…" Hermione pulled out a scroll of parchment from her bag to write upon. "…the numbers 8-5-9-4-9-6-5-5 7-9-1-5-7-5-9, which reduces to four if you add them all together." She then wrote down his name. "You're a two, see?"

Snape nodded in understanding, enjoying seeing her handwriting scrawl the letters of his name and listening to her enthusiastic explanation.

"And what do these numbers mean?" he encouraged.

"Well…" she started, embarrassed that she was about to reveal the flaws Arithmancy claimed she possessed. "Fours are hard-working and stable, as well as skeptical about anything illogical. They are good at achieving their goals and are generally predictable, but they can be, um…" She stopped for a moment. Snape's look implored her to continue. "They can be suspicious and intractable, as well as hot-headed."

Snape looked amused now, and a playful grin tugged at his lips. Hermione looked away, temper rising slightly. "It's not funny, you know…"

"All right. What is a two, then?" he asked, curious as to whether her description of him based on his personality number would be befitting. He wouldn't say it to her aloud, but he felt the description of her own characteristics had been quite accurate.

Hermione straightened up and stuck her nose in the air, feeling haughty and knowledgeable. "Twos are moody and withdrawn, as well as indecisive and self-conscious."

Snape stiffened, nose wrinkled. These labels felt like a personal attack.

Hermione returned her gaze to him and continued gently, "But they are imaginative, peaceful, harmonious, committed, and fiercely loyal. They're also very sweet-natured." She gave him a smile.

Snape felt as if he had perhaps been caught somewhat red-handed, though Hermione couldn't possibly know his feelings. He would not let on what he felt was true or untrue about her explanation, so he simply said, "I see," and looked back at her.

"You look flustered," Hermione observed teasingly. "Do you feel stripped from my description?" Without waiting for an answer, she scooted closer to him and snuggled lightly against his shoulder, barely touching him. "If you weren't sweet-natured, I wouldn't be able to do this, now would I?"

Snape flushed. "Stop that." He wore a frown on his carved features.

Hermione made an extremely disappointed face and began to straighten up again in her own chair.

Snape quickly retracted his command. "That is not what I meant… I meant you shouldn't… Something as complex as a human can't be read like a book," he finished.

She only nodded and resumed laying on him gently. Snape brought his arm up and around her shoulders, bringing her close. The parchment Hermione had written on lay in front of them, and he stared at it, eyes unfocused, until his eyelids grew heavy. The darkness of the dungeon was conducive to tired cuddling, an activity becoming very well-known to both Snape and Hermione.

Hermione turned into him so her body was huddled against his black cloak, blotting out the last bits of light from her vision. Snape's head was on hers, and he was about ready to nap before he realized he had to stay up to verify Hermione would get to Ancient Runes on time. He straightened up reluctantly, but with purpose, like an alert guard dog.

Hermione quieted him, "You don't have to stay awake. It's your turn to rest, you know."

When Snape began to protest, she pressed a finger to his lips. He kissed it, and she giggled. "Rest," she implored with a saucy smile.

Snape considered her for a moment.

"Please just close your eyes."

Snape searched her eyes. He felt he shouldn't waste their time debating something so silly, and there was certainly no reason for her to say 'please' unless she really wanted this, so he permitted himself to relax back in his chair and rest his eyes yet again.

Hermione took hold of his cloak and wrapped it securely around them both. She liked being so close to his tunic, for it brought her farther into the scope of his bodily warmth. She knew she would not fall asleep, however, because she had a duty to fulfill, and would not rest on the job. Hermione not only wanted to make it to her Ancient Runes class on time, but she also wanted to watch her favorite, ever-watchful professor let go of consciousness and allow himself to be unaware and vulnerable in her presence. It would mean a lot to her to see that side of the withdrawn "two".

In the midst of these thoughts, Hermione felt a soft pressure on her hand. She took her face from his side and looked down.

Snape had wrapped her hand tenderly in his own.

Hermione looked into his face. He looked so docile and serene, like nothing she'd ever seen him like before. She loved how it felt to have him lower his defenses when she was around. Happy, she squeezed his hand ever so lightly and laid her head back on his chest, taking care to position herself in full view of the clock on the wall.

"It's you who didn't rest well this time," Hermione teased the sleepy Snape.

Snape pretended to ignore her, unwilling to relay the many dreams he'd been having involving her that had been waking him up. Often, he woke up cursing his consciousness, and during these mornings he was desperate to return to his dreams only to find out that there wasn't much time left to spare before breakfast. He resigned himself each of these days to trying to finish the dream later, though his efforts were usually unsuccessful.

When Snape was just about to doze off, he heard a faint whisper.

"Severus… Why do you hate Sirius so much?"

It was as if all air had left the room.

"Hermione… Why?" Snape groaned, bringing his hand up feverishly to his forehead, feeling that this was the worst possible subject they could get into right now.

"I'm just curious. He was absolved of any blame two years ago and yet you still despise him." Her eyes were prying, unnecessarily so. She was searching him for an answer.

Snape sighed uncomfortably. It was none of her business what conspired between himself and Sirius so long ago. He was frustrated with her despicable devotion to discovering details about something about which she clearly had no right to know. He let go of her hand obstinately and cast his eyes away.

Hermione was taken aback, obviously regretting her curiosity. "I'm sorry, I just thought…"

"Don't," he stopped her, attempting to remain gentle despite her unjustified prying. His frustration was displayed irresolutely on his face, and Hermione looked troubled.

"Professor, I'm sorry. Please try to rest again; I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not tired anymore," he lied to get her to quit worrying, though this only made matters worse. Her brief regression into calling him by his proper title instead of sweetly by his first name frightened him. He felt that, just as they were beginning to make progress in making up, this formality signaled the inevitable, crucial moment for a decision to make that would guide their future communication. This thought, which caused him to recall how he had listlessly woken up feeling languid for eight straight months because of his last communication foible with Hermione, scared him back into his common sense, and made him reassess his deepest desires.

"Come here," Snape requested after several painful moments in total silence. He wrapped Hermione in his arms when she cautiously laid her head back on his torso. Their making up after so long had been much too shaky for his comfort, and he was willing to forgive her nearly anything to keep her from leaving again.

Snape held her gently to balance out the innate harshness of his next words: "Do not ask me about Sirius Black again." Despite his wariness to get into another trifle with her, he could not allow her to think that she had simply asked him the wrong question at the wrong time; she needed to know that this was a topic he would never be prepared to breach with her, let alone anyone else. Sirius's mere name made him scowl.

"I won't," Hermione said with confidence. She did not want their restored moments together to go like this again.

Snape pulled his arms tighter. Hermione thought he had entirely dropped the subject, but he still had something to say:

"Sirius, and his…_friends_ are just a…sensitive topic." He was staring off into space when he said this.

Hermione nodded in understanding. This was more explication than she had hoped for, so she was grateful. "Thank you for telling me."

Snape did not move.

"Look at me," commanded Hermione.

He did, and she bounced up to kiss his cheek.


	25. Chapter 25

* 25 *

Hermione was happy.

She was now receiving extra instruction in two classes: Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. The teacher of the latter was none other than her best friend Harry Potter. She had pestered him until he had agreed to relay his knowledge of ways he had defeated Voldemort, though he was quick to attribute his past successes entirely to luck. This "class" with Harry allowed her to explore Dark Magic, something Hermione had surprisingly historically not been too adept with. The Potions lessons, however, allowed her to explore something wholly incommensurable.

It was a Thursday, and she was set to meet Professor Snape after their only class, Potions, that day. They would finally be restarting their extra lessons together. She paid an excessive amount of attention to her breakfast that morning in the eyes of her friends. She was distracted, and her non-school-appropriate thoughts were constant. The only kosher thought she was able to muster was "What will I be making with him today?"

Harry looked at her, concerned. Despite his being male, and thus relatively inexperienced in the ways of females, even he could tell something was wrong. Ron, on the other hand, was nowhere near as observant, and thus Harry hid his question for Hermione from him by speaking in low tones.

"Hermione," he whispered, "are you alright? You've been acting weird lately."

"Oh, have I?" Hermione asked stupidly. She knew that she couldn't hide her ruminations forever; they distracted her mind far too much for her to be able to control something as inconsequential as her facial features. They were what had given her away to her friend.

"Yes, I'm quite fine." While she was indeed not depressed or worried, she wouldn't describe her mental state as being "fine": she was tremendously preoccupied and thus uncharacteristically careless, and her stomach was sick with butterflies.

Harry was not convinced in the slightest, but given that she did not want to talk about what was bothering her, he gave up without protest.

But Hermione wanted him to know that his genuine interest in her well-being did not go unnoticed. "Thanks, Harry, but trust me, everything's quite alright." She smiled.

"Good. That's good to hear, then," responded Harry, reverting to his usual volume and happy that she had actually elucidated a bit instead of lying that she was perfectly okay.

"What are you lot whispering about?" demanded Ron finally, his loud, cow-like mastication having ceased.

"We're discussing how you're a complete bonehead." Hermione eyed his sloppy plate and added, "And you eat like a pig." She looked disgusted.

"Oh, alright then," Ron acquiesced, eyebrows raised in indifference, apparently having not a thing to say to the contrary. He took a swig of pumpkin juice, completely unbothered. Hermione bristled in frustration. Harry smirked.

Just then, a dark cloaked figure entered the Great Hall, and Hermione realized with a jolt that it was Professor Snape.

"Why has he only just _now_ come to breakfast? He's got to be at least twenty minutes late!" she wondered.

"Hermione," Harry called.

Hermione stared for quite a few more seconds, watching his cloak billow out behind him majestically as his swift steps propelled him forward. She hadn't heard Harry. Then, her acoustic memory caught up with her, and she shook her head to snap out of it. She turned to her four-eyed friend, bracing herself. Hermione was sure he had followed her eyes and saw precisely who she was gawking at.

"Why are you staring at Snape?" Harry asked quite predictably. At the sound of this, Ron's head immediately snapped around to look at her as well. He apparently had not wanted to breach the subject himself, but now that it was brought up…

"I…was just wondering why he arrived so late to breakfast, is all," she justified, waving her hand as if this was no matter at all.

Ron eyed her and was the one to ask her a question this time: "Yeah, it is a bit odd, but why did you have to stare at the old bat for a _full ten seconds_?"

"I was trying to think of why he would come in late!" Hermione's volume was rising and it took everything she had to keep herself calm. If she said too much, or even too little…or anything at all…or perhaps nothing… Hermione was confused, but she knew that if she said something the wrong way, they would _know_.

Harry took the opportunity of Snape's oddly belated appearance to speculate about Snape being on The Dark Side as he was wont to do every other bleeding moment. For once, Hermione could say she was happy that he did so. It saved her from having to explain that there was indeed another reason she would be staring at him like that.

Ron was thankfully joining Harry in his outlandish suspicions instead of musing longer about Hermione's conspicuous stare-down. Sure, Snape being suspicious was one reason to watch him for that long, but Hermione was grateful that her two friends were boys. They did not notice in particular the _way_ she had been eyeing him, looking him from head to boot, feeling him with her eyes and remembering how glorious it felt to kiss him and have him wrap his arms around her to pull her closer…

Hermione only had to pretend to act her usual irritated self when the boys started accusing Snape of malevolent wrongdoings. She had ceased being roused by their nonsense anymore, since she knew more of the real Snape than they could ever hope to. Hermione scoffed, folded her arms self-confidently, and turned her nose upward, listening to them with an air of haughty disdain for the rest of breakfast.


	26. Chapter 26 - T

* 26 *

When the time for Potions arrived, Hermione leapt from her comfortable spot in the snow under the large tree she and her friends usually sat during breaks. Harry put his gloves in the snow and pushed himself up, and Ron labored to his feet. Hermione tapped her foot at them, discreetly scolding them for taking so long. She caught herself and began walking at a normal (though awfully slow in her opinion) pace with them back to the castle and into the dungeons.

Snape's dungeon was lit even less than usual today, and Hermione wondered why. The boys didn't seem to notice, or if they did they didn't care. More opportunity to mess around without being caught, they thought. Hermione looked to the front of the room.

There he was, in all his black glory. He looked like a sinister and powerful antagonist, but Hermione knew he was gentle on the inside. She made her way to the table with her friends and sat, awaiting the commencement of class.

Snape stood up when every last student sat down. "Begin," he commanded lazily, and he began pacing the classroom, doling out criticism whenever he saw fit.

For the full period, Hermione effortlessly concocted, and she as always found herself finished before the other students. She spent the last few minutes of class analyzing the way Snape walked, looking only at his boots as his cloak waved like a dark, voluptuous fan around them.

The bell rang, and Hermione lagged behind to give her sample to Snape, who was now back to sitting at his desk, last. Harry and Ron had once again grown accustomed to Hermione accompanying them at lunch, and she stood in front of the professor's desk with her shoulders shrugged to hide her face in shame. She was distraught at having to lie to them about why she was staying behind when she had only just barely dispelled their curiosity about her interest in Snape's late appearance this morning. She mumbled an unheard excuse and the boys rolled their eyes. Thankfully, they left without anything but a "Come on, then, Ron."

"Perhaps this is a bit too obvious," Snape observed. Hermione stamped her foot at how obvious this very realization was.

"It's only obvious because of what I did this morning. They wouldn't have thought twice about it if I hadn't been acting so strangely."

"And what did you do this morning that was so strange?" quoted Snape, curious.

"I stared at you during breakfast. For…awhile," she admitted.

Snape smirked.

"You came in late!" She tried to look upset, but she couldn't help but notice his expression. "Oh, shut up," she said. His smirk was contagious.

"I'm glad the visual of me walking is…captivating," he teased, baffled.

"It was peculiar! Why were you late to breakfast?" she asked, certain there was an easy explanation she had simply overlooked.

Snape grew quiet and cast his eyes to the ground. He cleared his throat after a few seconds, seemingly in preparation to say something, but nothing came out.

Hermione eyed him. "Mhmm?" she prodded.

He shuffled through papers on his desk, then thought better of it and stood. He walked around his desk and Hermione watched him come nearer. When he was within a foot of her face, he bent at the neck and stared from her soft lips to her kind eyes and back again. "Hermione," he whispered in his sultry voice on her lips. He closed the distance between them.

Hermione closed her eyes and rose onto her toes. The kiss was short, and within a few seconds, Snape had pulled away and was looking at her from a distance again. She flattened her feet to the floor.

"What was that for?"

"I've been thinking about doing that all day."

"I've been thinking, too."

Snape looked genuinely interested. "About what?"

Hermione answered him with a close embrace. She hugged him loosely to her, and she felt his arms encircle her waist. "About wanting to be close to you, like this." She gave his body a squeeze at the last word to emphasize her point.

"Hmm…and here I thought you were studiously thinking about your Potions lesson today."

Hermione giggled. "Well, in a way, I was. But how can I think of Potions without thinking about the man who teaches it?" she added smartly.

"And what about he who teaches it?"

"Well, he just kissed me, and I'm hugging him right now. That kind of thing can easily distract a person from potion recipes."

Snape flushed at having his recent, forward actions spelled out in words.

"So, what are we making today?"

Temporarily made unable to speak, for reasons about which Hermione was entirely unsure, Snape silently went into his ingredients cupboard and came back, laying down the lot on the table in front of his desk.

He cleared his throat, then commenced narrating the directions to Hermione. She quickly sat down and began, not having expected to start so abruptly. He did not tell her the name of the potion, but she figured he would remember to soon enough anyway. She concentrated on following his directions.

But something peculiar happened a ways into the process. After almost half an hour, Hermione began to feel lightheaded. She looked up to Snape, who didn't seem fazed and continued dictating to her. Her eyes narrowed involuntarily as she stirred, almost as if she couldn't see clearly, and she was put into what could best be described as a trance.

Then the velvet of his voice filled the room, sounding as if it were very close to her ear. "It's all right. You will be fine in a few minutes. Finish the potion."

Hermione nodded, hypnotized by a flurry of pleasant sensations. She could smell and see things that made her feel girlish and vulnerable, but happily entranced. Snape gazed at her with an expression she had never seen before. He was observing her, almost as if taking notes on her reaction. She did feel cloudy and unsure, but she would never mistake that look in his eye, as if she were an interesting science experiment.

"W-what is this, Professor? I feel faint…" Besides feeling faint, she also wanted Snape to hold her again.

"This is Amortentia."

"Ohh…" Hermione moaned in her sudden insight. It all made sense. She was being so affected because of how close in proximity the mixture was to her face; in fact, the aroma was wafting directly up her nostrils.

"I know…what this does, Professor, and why I'm saying this, but… Will you please…hold me? I want it so much." Hermione felt pleading and eager to please, the smell of freshly mown grass, new parchment, and Spearmint toothpaste seemingly saturating her whole being...

Snape didn't look surprised so much as pleased. He walked around behind her, leaned down, and wrapped his arms around her. She could hear his breath behind her head, and she continued stirring dreamily until she felt herself melting into him. Snape added to the feeling by kissing her cheek and pulling her close to him. In a whisper, he spoke just over her neck, "The potion is done."

Hermione didn't care. She felt surrounded by his warm presence amidst the cold, seemingly uninviting dungeon that had begun to become her home once more, just as it had been in the second term of her fourth year. She looked sideways at him and placed her face close to his. She rubbed her lips sensually against his, and he faltered, fully enticed, for a moment before responding by pecking her gently.

"Hermione, don't do anything you wouldn't normally do. Remember this is simply a potion."

"I-I wouldn't, but…Severus…" she whispered, "It feels so good…"

"I know." He kissed her forehead, then pulled back.

It was as if a favorite toy had been snatched from a child. Hermione held her hands up in the air and turned her head upside down to look at him. "Come back!" she whined.

"Hermione, we must collect your potion," he reasoned as she protested. "You've done a fine job, as I'm sure you can tell." He left her to fetch a handful of vials, then returned.

"Regrettably, this is unavoidable, feeling under Amortentia's powerful spell even before it is finished brewing. It is thus simultaneously wise and unwise to concoct it in the presence of another."

All Hermione could say was "Regrettably? This is such a powerful feeling…who wouldn't want to experience it?" Her voice was dreamy.

"Those who wish to keep their senses and their head about them in the process of procuring it," replied Snape. He began draining her potion into the several vials and corking them, and Hermione slowly came down off of her high.

When her cauldron was empty, Snape leaned closely over her and gazed into her eyes, analyzing her. "How do you feel?" His eyes bore into hers.

"I'm fine, Severus." She grabbed his shoulders and he glanced at each of her hands before looking back at her. She pulled her arms closer toward her chest, taking her professor along with them, and wrapped him close to her body for a hug. "I just want you here with me."

"Hermione…the potion is…"

"This isn't the potion, Severus, hug me back." Without hesitation but surprised at her commanding tone, he encircled her with his arms and obeyed.

Just then, the bell rang, signaling the next class, and also meaning that lunch was over. Hermione blatantly ignored it. She had no other classes that day.

But Snape didn't agree that her absence of classes made the bell meaningless. "Hermione, you should get back to your dorm."

Hermione felt slightly more talkative than she usually did. "Did I do well, Severus?" she asked, beaming already. She felt slightly self-conscious and wanted to be complimented. Her spirits were noticeably high.

"You did excellently," he assured her, lifting her from her chair and to her feet. "But you're still a little _off_. Can you make it back to your common room without assistance?"

"Will you walk me there?"

"Do you need me to?"

"I want you to…" She glanced into his face and continued, slightly hurt, when his face displayed a frown, "but I think I could make it okay."

Snape would not mind in the slightest, except for how obvious it would be that she was leaning on him as he half-carried her to Gryffindor Tower. He couldn't risk that many eyes witnessing such a thing between a professor and a student, and he wasn't so sure they would believe him if he wrote her off as merely being sick. What if, under the prying eyes of Hogwarts, he was forced to take her to the hospital wing, and Madam Pomfrey recognized that she was under the influence of Amortentia?

"I want to as well, but think about the consequences."

He was right. Hermione wasn't in the best state of mind to think at the moment, but she knew that he was right.

"Just give me a hug and I'll be off," Hermione pronounced confidently.

Snape noticed she was being quite unlike herself without being unlike herself. That is, she had lower inhibitions, it seemed, for she still retained her mannerisms and idiosyncrasies, but her speech was loose and her words were more declarative. She knew what she wanted, and what she wanted right now was apparently specifically of the cuddly nature.

Snape hugged her, rubbing his hand up and down her back automatically. He was happy that she had enjoyed her experience. Amortentia was no ordinary potion, and she would have to brew it again.

Hermione pulled back from him, aware that it was probably time for her to go. The other Gryffindors knew Hermione didn't presently have class and had grown accustomed to her presence with them at this hour on a Thursday.

Then:

"I'm happy we're close again, Severus. It feels like we've just picked up where we left off."

Snape's entire soul was in his throat when he replied, "I am as well." He closed his eyes as he said this, filling with emotion.

When he opened them again, Hermione was gone.


	27. Chapter 27

* 27 *

Hermione and Snape quickly and mutually decided to meet once more on a Saturday, making it two Saturdays in a row they'd have been in each other's company.

The way this came to their attention was a complete fluke, however. Snape meandered around the castle searching for Hermione while Hermione left notes under Snape's office door, a place he had been visiting less and less now that he no longer felt the need to coop himself up and wallow in self-pity. Friday was when they had made their decision, and they had pinpointed the next day as the date of their rendezvous. They would meet, not in Snape's office, but in his bedchambers.

When they finally were in the same room at the same time (that is, during dinner that day), they then had the problem of how to approach the other and communicate the time without being detected by prying student eyes. Frustrated by all of this, Snape planned on just catching her on her way up to Gryffindor Tower after dinner. Hermione seemed to have the same idea, for she lingered behind the others long after she had finished her meal, propping open a book quite casually at the dinner table and proceeding to pretend to read it.

When she saw the majority of the Gryffindors had left, Hermione began heading for the common room herself. Predictably, Snape caught her just outside the hall.

"Miss Granger," he stated quite formally, playacting as if he did not expect to see her.

"Professor Snape, hello," she replied with a straight face.

The two were on the verge of laughing at how silly they felt addressing each other in this way. But they had to, at least for right now.

Snape glanced around the premises in one swift survey, and then bent down to speak in a whisper.

"If you will agree, I'd like to meet you in my bedchambers tomorrow after breakfast." His voice was husky and sincere.

"I'll be there."

What they said was heard by no other but each other, but Hermione was nodding in vehement excitement that would be obvious to anyone within observing distance. Her bushy hair shook, and her face was locked in an expression of the utmost glee.

She ascended the stairs to the Gryffindor common room spiritedly afterward and met her friends Harry and Ron face-to-face. They proceeded to spend the rest of the day together, Hermione occasionally shooting off into an entirely different realm of thought, but enjoying the time with her friends nonetheless. She felt extra appreciative of anything she came in contact with today, and Harry and Ron's presence was no exception.

She was having a very good day, and felt that tomorrow would be even better.


	28. Chapter 28 - T

* 28 *

It was Saturday, and Hermione felt independent. Her parents would more than kill her if they found out what she had been planning to do that day after breakfast, but it was too late: she was already in her seat in the Great Hall, food was already on her plate, she was already too excited for what was to come, and now nothing separated her and her professor except for time.

When breakfast was at long last over, Hermione declared to her friends that she was off to the library. In no surprised tones, they mocked her and left completely unassumingly.

Snape gave her a quick look to be sure she was off in the correct direction, then swept away to his bedroom to wait for her.

He arrived a good few minutes before her, likely due to her having taken a less obvious route to what was reputed by the whole school to be a Danger Zone.

Finally, he heard a soft knock at his door, one that would've easily gone unheard if he hadn't been listening for it. He opened the door to let Hermione in and then shut it behind her with celerity.

"Here I am," Hermione pronounced matter-of-factly.

She was not wearing her robes today, but instead she wore a set of Muggle clothing; Snape could tell this partly because he had never seen other students wear something of its kind so unabashedly. Hers was a baby blue top with sleeves slightly longer than those of a T-shirt, and her pants were comfortable, dark blue jeans.

Snape, however, was in his everyday attire: black everything with a black cloak to top it all off.

Now that they were alone, they gazed at each other. The ambience in his room was mostly dark, but softly so; Hermione did not feel creeped out so much as relaxed, though that could've been partially caused by Snape's soft and comfortable demeanor now facing her.

"I'm glad you enjoyed the Amortentia," Snape started.

"It truly was lovely. I didn't realize brewing the potion would cause the same effects as taking it."

"Yes, that happens because of how close one must be to produce it. Unless you wear some sort of apparatus, you simply grow used to and ignore it after awhile."

Hermione shook her head, her hair framing her face as she did so. "No, no, I can't ever imagine ignoring something like that. If I truly wanted to concoct it without interference, I'd wear something to block the aroma. The last thing I'd want to do is grow accustomed to something so beautiful; that would be taking advantage of it."

Snape grinned at the beauty and truth to her words. He reached forward to push back a single stray lock of hair that had gotten in front of her beautiful face when she shook her head.

Hermione snuggled her face against his hand, and Snape began to caress her. His touch was timid at first, but then he stroked her with heavy affection. His hand cupped her cheek, then his fingers slid back to accommodate the tender spot where her ear met her jaw, then he ran his fingers through the hair by her ear, then assumed his hand's original position spread about her cheek and with an index finger near her mesmerizingly intelligent brown eyes.

He loved how her Muggle attire left more of her skin exposed, like the soft skin of her arms he now wished to admire. He also enjoyed how the lighting in his bedroom made her radiant skin shine with a tinge of orange.

Snape took her smooth hands in his and slowly began massaging them. He had no particular purpose for doing this besides a simple desire to. Hermione certainly looked unbothered: she smiled at him with a slight blush, surprised at him being so simply contented. She raised her hands more toward his face, and when they were close enough, Snape bent slightly to kiss them, as a gentleman would a princess's.

Hermione dropped her hands from their raised position at that moment, and hugged him. She felt consumed with affection. She wanted to dote on him, to make him feel loved.

Snape very much relished the eleemosynary attention he received from Hermione, who was such an attractive and incredibly smart girl. He rested his chin on her hair.

But he suddenly took in breath very oddly. He felt Hermione's hands feel up and down his back. His back curved a bit while the feeling was sending shivers throughout his body. The sensation felt like a very gentle but very effective massage.

Hermione bore her hand down harder into his back, and he kissed her hair in response. Then, she brought her hands around to his front and slid his cloak from his arms. He looked at her with a blank expression, not knowing how she wanted him to react, or what to expect next.

The hands that had just removed his cloak now ran themselves over the front of his torso, and their owner got on her toes to bring herself closer to Snape's face. The doted-on wizard stood resolutely, grasping her elbows and holding her up. The girl pushed against him, causing him to step backward a few feet. His back came in contact with the wall (he uttered a small "uhn"), and he could go no further.

Hermione seemed to have this planned. She encircled his back with her arms and pulled him downward to kiss her. She nibbled at his lips for a full half minute, tempting him with her breath on his mouth, before he began kissing back. His lips encompassed hers and she felt as if her goal had been reached; she knew he had been holding back due to the seeming indecency of courting a young girl in his bedroom.

Hermione grazed her hands up his sides. With Snape's cloak no longer in her way, this was made far easier; she could now feel the curves of his body through his tunic. She was leading their movements, and Snape fell to second-in-command; he apparently wanted to do only what he knew she would be perfectly okay with doing. She kept his solid body very close to hers as she kissed him. His kissing was still a slight bit unsure and focused mostly on her lips rather than going deeper, but she didn't mind. She wasn't trying to seduce him as much as encourage him to act on more of his thoughts and daydreams. His fingers were manacles around her wrists and moved with her hands wherever they went, which now meant his sides. Thus, his elbows were raised at almost a ninety degree angle. He seemingly couldn't relax.

"Severus," Hermione whispered.

The sibilant sound of her voice calling his name caused him to open his eyes from their clamped shut position, giving her his undivided attention. He looked as if he had been concentrating, but now it was broken. He could tell she was trying to encourage him to loosen his inhibitions, but he felt as if he would be going too far if he instigated anything.

She broke off from him and drew back. He had a guilty expression dawning on his face, and he looked away from her gaze.

"Come on, Severus. What are you afraid of?" she looked only slightly amused as to not seem to offend him for being childish.

He didn't answer.

"You wouldn't make me do anything I don't already want to, you know. You should know yourself better than that." She gave him a safe smile. "Because I do."

His eyes slowly returned to meet hers, and she could read understanding, or at the very least acceptance, in them. He gradually leaned forward and hovered above her lips for a second, then covered them with his own. He allowed his grip on her wrists to fall as he attempted to rid himself of unnecessary tension.

Hermione was pleased. She wasted no time in getting back in the rhythm she had earlier established with him, though it was far less awkward and hesitant this time around. They tousled with each other's lips until she moved her mouth to the side of his, choosing to kiss his carved nasolabial crease; his habitual scowl had etched the lines on both sides of his hooked nose ever deeper into his face over many years.

Snape's resistance seemed to finally melt, for relaxed his face and put his hand on her head, staying quiet and admiring how she admired him.

She lavished attention on every frown line in his face, almost as if to will them away. She focused on his expression only when she could see it from her angle, but she was sure to consistently keep at least his closed eyes in view.

Snape was willing himself to analyze how every luminal touch felt to his skin. He was lost in determination to not think, but to lose himself in feeling, for the first time in his life.

When Hermione traced his jaw with her lips, Snape sighed deeply. One glance into his face told her he was enjoying himself.

Hermione pushed her soft lips to his neck. She entwined her fingers with his, holding both of his hands with hers.

Snape's face was complacent, and he only moved when Hermione moved him. She was being immensely sweet to him, taking his bodily responses into consideration to plan her following move. Because of her intelligent analysis, she seemed to know just where he wanted her to touch next.

Tension in his shoulders had developed without him realizing it from his being touched so much; it was as if they were preparing themselves for an attack. Hermione, he realized, was quieting his body's harsh response to being touched. She gently squeezed his arms, then moved to massage his shoulders from the front, spreading her fingers and kneading the soft pads pleasurably into the knots that had arisen in the area near his jugular.

"Just relax…" she coaxed in a hushed voice, completely aware that he was already as much so as he could voluntarily bring himself to be.

"Does this feel good?" asked Hermione sweetly as she continued to knead his shoulders.

He only opened his eyes narrowly and gave a short chuckle. He didn't know what to say. He closed them again thereafter without answering, as if dismissing her silly question.

She circled a single arm around his back and moved to turn him around to face the wall. He did so slowly, stepping in tandem with her to make it easier. When he faced fully away from her, she rested her hands between his shoulder blades and gently manipulated his skin through the material of his tunic and through her fingers.

Snape's hands jolted upward as if to react, but they had nowhere to go. Slowly as she petted him, they rose and flattened against the wall. The movement automatically caused his scapula to protrude farther, giving her more surface area to work with. Snape squelched any vibrations of his vocal cords against the hard surface in front of him.

Hermione continued giving him a cursory back and shoulder massage as his muscles finally started to weaken and relinquish control to her firm touch.

She thought it would be much more constructive and relaxing for him to lie down on his bed, but she didn't want to bother to ask.

Snape was positioned oddly, standing up with his hands against the wall, but he didn't care how strange he looked: sensory pleasure pervaded his neural pathways.

He so badly wanted to return the favor to Hermione, but he didn't feel he knew enough. He had to do something in return, however. He was about to think about what that should be when a gentle stroke yet again disabled him. His body was now in total repose without being supine; quite an accomplishment for her first massage to him. This near-total release made him slightly uncomfortable, however, and he suddenly stiffened in reflex to this vexing feeling of loss of control.

Just as suddenly, Hermione stopped, taking her hands off of him. Snape turned his head to the side to get a glimpse of her expression, but couldn't do much more than that; his entire torso had been calmed to the point of near immobility. He frowned, expecting an unpleasant reaction.

"You should rest; you don't seem like you can move, much," Hermione suggested after a few seconds, approaching the door. She seemed conspicuously put off by something, but Snape wasn't entirely certain he knew what that something was.

He eventually managed to face her, and was only able to get a glimpse of her before she left, saying "I'll see you Monday!"


	29. Chapter 29 - M

* 29 *

Snape awoke Monday feeling peculiar as he had been wont to do in the two days since he saw Hermione. He couldn't for the life of him figure out what was wrong (this was untrue, because he felt he had quite a good idea what had bothered Hermione; he did not want to admit that what he was thinking could be the reason, however), and he wanted to know as soon as possible, for though she didn't seem mad at him, she had clearly been upset. The only impetus present Saturday morning that could have spurred her bad mood was him, and his actions.

But he would see her today, and he would ask to ascertain why she had left so abruptly. He did not want to be a reason she could be upset.

Breakfast for Snape was a saturnine affair, just as the entirety of Sunday had been.

Snape and Hermione did not look at each other once, but this was not due to either of them being upset. Snape simply did not want to cause her to be more displeased than she already was, even though he had no idea how much she was, if at all anymore.

Snape awaited the end of Potions with only some patience. He was able to make it through the hour-and-a-half by distracting himself with analyzing student cauldrons and the substances contained within them, and doing so in a much kinder light than he had before.

When the bell rang, thankfully, Hermione did not leave. Snape wasn't incredibly convinced that she would, but he had had remnants of a doubt.

Hermione waited patiently for the other students to leave, and Snape grinned lightly. He began walking toward her, and was already feeling a bit better about the semi-conflict they'd had. She didn't seem too upset now.

When he saw the last student leave, he got straight to the point. "Why did you leave so suddenly Saturday?" he asked gently.

A few lines etched into Hermione's face: she was frowning slightly. "You just couldn't relax. When I tried to completely soften you up, you seemed receptive, but once I was actually making some progress you tensed up. It was like you didn't want me to touch you anymore."

"No, it wasn't." Snape sighed and looked away for a moment. "I'm not accustomed to what you were making me feel."

She retorted in a huff, "Your body didn't seem to want to grow accustomed, either."

"There is no need to flare at me, Hermione," Snape said very calmly, turning his eyes back to her. After a few seconds, he underlined, "I did not mean to make you think I wasn't enjoying it."

Hermione sighed in return. He was right. She was being excessively and immaturely upset in response to the hurt she felt for something he hadn't meant to do. He also did really seem as if he had been relaxing when she was touching him; it was just that one, last moment…

Snape looked at her seriously. "Do you believe me?"

Hermione nodded. She had just been being silly. Finally, she smiled; the tension in the room was getting to be too much to bear, and she had nothing to be upset about.

The cloaked wizard relaxed as her expression softened at last.

"Will we be making Amortentia again today?" Hermione asked, raising herself to get a glimpse at his cupboards.

Snape smirked. "Remember that today is a Monday, and we have not the time to produce that particular substance."

Hermione sank back into her chair. "Oh, right."

Snape was emboldened. "There is, however, enough time to spare for another activity, one that can bewitch the mind just as effectively," he purred provocatively in his deep velvet voice, hovering inches from her face.

Hermione slightly grinned and brought her hand up to his face to cup his cheek. She lifted herself onto her knees and pressed her lips against his.

Snape closed his eyes and remained leaning over her, holding the kiss. He then rubbed his lips with hers and felt her breath on his mouth. The kiss was gentle, and they both wanted to take it slowly, allowing themselves to experience to the fullest extent the passionate emotions overcoming them. Snape traced the texture of her smooth mouth downward to find her full bottom lip. He closed his mouth around it and sucked on it softly, taking care not to bite her.

Hermione returned his nibbles on his top lip, turning her head to the side more to accommodate his tantalizing and soft kisses.

During this rendezvous, Snape's thoughts were pure except for the single time he allowed his mind to analyze his state of physical arousal:

He mused that if the butterfly touch of her lips on his was enough to get him going like this, oh gods… He couldn't imagine what running his hands over her bare skin could do to him.

Snape snapped out of his highly unacceptable daydream, clinging to the sweet smell of her breath to keep himself constantly kissing her with vigor instead of concentrating on his thoughts.

They continued for several minutes, both slowly learning how to breathe while moving their lips around each other's.

Finally, Hermione broke the kiss, pulling back from his face at a slow pace and opening her eyes again. Snape did the same and gazed down at her from his still slightly leaning position.

Snape made a pinching movement with his thumb and forefinger around the delicate frame of her jaw. Hermione's big brown eyes were full of delight, for Snape was becoming more romantic the more she saw him. She held onto his arm and languorously got to her feet. She wanted to try kissing him in a different position. Tilting her head upward, she nuzzled herself on his shoulder and into his neck. Rubbing her nose against his earlobe, she felt strands of his hair brush her face. Hermione brought up a hand and sifted his shoulder-length black hair through her fingers.

Snape melted to her loving caress, closing his eyes once more. He leaned into the palm of her hand and let out a breath of relaxation. She showered his cheek with soft kisses and watched his calmed expression.

Snape opened his eyes a little and grinned. He loved the way her lips felt on his face, and he was elated at how willing she was to give him small shows of affection.

Feeling emotional, he clamped his eyes shut again and took a sluggish breath. The entire time, certain words had been bubbling up inside of him, threatening to spill out. He couldn't hold in what he was so eager to say, for months on end and especially during the summer, any longer.

"I missed you, Hermione." His voice so nearly broke at revealing what he had so longed to say during her bout with Amortentia.

Snape felt a kiss on his nose after several seconds.

"I missed you too, Severus."

His inhibitions crumbled at the smile in her voice when she said this. He turned his face and caught her lips with his grinning own.

Gently, he tasted her and spread his lips with mild pressure to encourage hers to do the same. Then, his tongue dipped into her mouth. It was shallow at first, and then he veiled her lips with his.

Snape drove Hermione mad when he turned the kiss to a full-on snog. She kissed back eagerly, nibbling him at every chance. She was standing up now, but her knees were rapidly losing strength as she focused entirely on matching his mouth's movements and melted into the kiss. When Hermione nearly lost her balance a second later, her weakness was brought to Snape's attention, and he grabbed her underneath her thighs, hoisting her onto the table where her untouched sample potion still sat.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned back into the kiss immediately upon being set down. Surprised, it took Snape a moment to regain his rhythm. He removed his hands from beneath her and curled his arms around her waist, holding her. Her knees were a mite in the way, so he curved oddly above them to lean into her.

Hermione, as the kiss progressed, began to spread her legs to allow him to come closer. He did, taking up the space between them as she locked them behind his back. Snape now set his palms flat down on the top of the table behind her. They were engrossed in one another, passion mounting inside of them. The kiss grew deeper, and Hermione moaned as Snape's probing tongue teased hers. Noting her reaction, Snape mischievously tantalized her more, and Hermione began panting as their mouths locked more vehemently than before. He brought his hand to her side and she trembled beneath the feather-light touch of his fingers through her robes.

Snape was beginning to get ravenously turned on by how she quivered and shied from the simple grazing of his fingers over her clothed figure. He moved her robes to the side cautiously, proceeding slowly in case she wanted to stop him. When she didn't, he grazed his nails against the bare skin of her side, and she moaned a strangled and desperate "Severus…" into his mouth. He left his arched fingers against her skin, but did not go further. He refocused his efforts into making the kiss utterly unforgettable, but did not forget to note each second how soft and innocent her flesh felt under his touch.

Hermione was only able to take a mere few seconds' more worth of tongue teasing before she gasped and tore away from his mouth. He retracted his hand from her bare skin, taking her movement as a sign to stop.

She looked into his face, panting with half-glazed-over eyes and moist lips. The playful glint in his eye told her that he had enjoyed himself, and his normally light pallor was flushed with excitement, signaling that he would be ready for even more play if they continued. It only took one brief mental image of him pushing into her to make her close her eyes briskly and pant even more heavily than she had been before.

It was pure torture to have him stand so powerfully between her spread thighs, and Hermione was overcome with the most potent and inexorable desire she'd ever felt in the moment before he backed up a few paces to allow her to close them. She did so immediately in a desperate attempt to close out the carnal feelings with them. She couldn't look into his face again lest she feel a resurgence of the immensely improper urges she was trying so earnestly to suppress.

Hermione shyly covered the soft, unblemished skin he had exposed. "I… I have to get to Ancient Runes…" she stuttered, beyond embarrassed at how flustered he had made her; her desire was not solely carnal, however.

Snape was dissatisfied by how scattered she seemed. He wanted her to know that everything that had just happened between them was by no means done just to please him. "Hermione."

Hermione was still blushing and did not respond.

"Look at me."

She obeyed. His dark eyes were soft again, not wild and wanton as they had been moments before. He brushed her cheek with his fingers, and she instantly knew by the respectable nature of his touch that he truly cared for her.

Feeling more than reassured, she jumped off the table and hugged him tightly. With one last look into his face, Hermione kissed him on the cheek, let go of him, and ran off to Ancient Runes.

Snape stared after her, smiling.


	30. Chapter 30 - T

* 30 *

Hermione felt racy over the next few days. Her semi-sensual encounter with Snape had her mind going in a different direction than it should've been with the weekend still days away. She and Snape exchanged sly looks during breakfast every morning, and every morning she was fully riled up even before her first class. When Harry and Ron exchanged looks of confusion, Hermione smirked, knowing that whatever they suspected was going on with her could be anything but the truth. They would never wager that she was meeting the stolid and cold Professor Snape after Potions classes to snog him.

She hurried down the stairs to the Potions dungeon with Harry and Ron. They spoke in whispers about Dumbledore's Army, the organization of quite a few students they had made wherein Harry was the teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

They hushed their voices as soon as they reached the door to Snape's cold, stone classroom, making their way to the back table and sitting down. Butterflies were already making Hermione's stomach feel fluttery: she was thinking once more about her experience with Amortentia.

Snape approached his desk and the door shut, though it did not slam as per the usual. Some students noticed, but their wonderment ceased as soon as they heard the command to begin the day's potion.

Hermione hummed to herself as she stirred. Ron puffed up, annoyed.

"Why are you always happy at the absolute _weirdest_ moments? Next you'll be singing at my bloody funeral…"

Hermione quickly retorted, "Who said I wouldn't already?"

"Jeez," replied Ron. He mimicked a cat and hissed at her.

"You look like Crookshanks. You even have the red hair." Hermione giggled. Ron was dismal the rest of the period.

Snape had been turning a deaf ear to their bits of conversation ever since he had gotten close to Hermione again. This was both because he enjoyed watching Hermione's face and gestures as she talked, and because her friends would simply find yet another irrelevant activity with which to occupy their time beside Potions in his class even if he manage to keep them from talking.

The bell rang, and Hermione switched up the routine a bit: she was almost the first in line to hand her sample to the professor, but then she took an egregious amount of time to return to her seat. She surveyed the dungeon she had spent so much time in with the extra bit of time on her hands. She had come to like it here, if not for her adapting to the surroundings, then because of the pleasant memories associated with it.

The rest of the class left, and Hermione immediately ran toward Snape, leaping into his arms. He caught her, surprised, and set her down softly. He couldn't help but grin.

"Let's begin!"

"Excited, are we?" Snape teased.

"It's not just because it's Amortentia," Hermione stated shyly. "I'm always happy to learn more than I already know, like mastering a third potion."

"Mmm." Snape regarded her with interest. He wondered as to her true intentions, for she seemed to be veiling something, but he was sure he'd find out what this was soon enough. "Are you ready to begin your second try with this…very special potion?" His last words oozed with almost a kind of veneration.

Hermione nodded vigorously. Snape wondered if her head would roll off her shoulders.

Snape came around behind her and watched her every move as she commenced her second day with the powerful love potion.

Hermione began chopping up her ingredients very slowly. She stretched out the time it took to place each component in the cauldron, stirred as languidly as possible without disturbing the final result. She eyed her professor with parted lips as she did so, and his rate of speech slowed down to match her deliberate movements. He looked back at her, closing his lips around his words more dramatically than he usually would to make himself still understandable as the volume of his voice plummeted. He spoke close to her ear, whispering the next steps as if they were the sweet words of only the truest lovers. He planted a kiss on her temple, then ran his lips up into her hair, his breath tantalizing her cheek. His kisses traced her hairline, coming down softly on her bangs.

The time had come. Hermione was assaulted by an onslaught of pleasurable release and lightheadedness when she took a deep breath, and was thus spurred to take more like it. Snape said nothing, but reached out for her hand, wrapped his fingers gently around hers, and removed them from tending to her cauldron. He brought her hands to his face and showered them with gentle touches of his lips. He did not kiss them, but instead rubbed his lips about the pliable and soft skin.

Hermione gazed at him with her eyes only half-seeing. She was sure she was in a dream as she watched his mouth admire her skin, his hair brush her hand. Each time his piercing dark eyes looked into hers, she felt as though she had been struck by an arrow. This happened often, and she eventually gently pulled herself closer to her attacker. Her mouth neared his eyes, and he closed them in reflex, but slowly. She planted a very careful kiss on his eyelids and did the same to the crease between his brows.

Snape suddenly rose without opening his eyes and took his wand from an inside pocket of his robes, pulling out several empty vials along with it. He waved his wand but twice, and the contents of Hermione's cauldron had vanished to be replaced into the corked bottles. He had wanted to collect it before it simmered being exposed to the air for too long.

The fact that the entrancing aroma no longer reached their olfactory glands did not matter; they had all the initial instigation they needed to treat each other with absolute and unrestrained adulation. They had had a taste of how it felt to let go of the nervousness and uncertainty with which they regarded their close relationship to one another.

And so she held his gaze, falling into his entrancing maze and hearing nothing but his voice whispering her name. After many minutes, she came back down to earth, feeling the ground beneath her and the man beside her. She looked at the one who now had his arms around her waist. He had been speaking to her.

"Would you like to retreat to someplace more private?" he crooned. Hermione kissed him in response.

"Careful not to arouse suspicion. I will see you soon." With that, Snape departed.

They both knew exactly where they were going.


	31. Chapter 31 - M

* 31 *

Hermione arrived in Snape's private quarters minutes later. This time, he had left the door open a crack. She pushed halfheartedly and the door opened just enough for her slim figure to enter. She closed it behind her, and was immediately surrounded by a beloved dark cloak. She was carried backward away from the door, and was placed just before the foot of the bed in the room.

Hermione felt a magnetic, pulsating attraction pull her toward the black-adorned man in front of her. She moved her hand to one of his sleeves, pulling it upward to reveal the skin beneath. Her fingers probed underneath the tightened sleeve, grazing his skin. Her mouth found his thin upper lip and she kissed every millimeter before turning her attention to the thicker bottom. As he once did to her, she licked his lips and his mouth immediately opened to grant her access.

Her fingers found his and she tugged at them lightly, playing with them as their tongues battled for supremacy. Hermione cast deeper.

Snape almost gasped at his sudden lack of air, but this was not due to the depth of the kiss. Hermione began pushing against him, forcing him backward. The bed attacked the back of his knees, and he fell onto its voluptuous mattress. Hermione followed him.

Hermione took her hands from around his fingers and hooked them around his arms, pushing him farther up on the mattress. Snape brought himself up with what was left of the strength now oddly distributed in his arms. When his head lay back on a single pillow, Hermione bent fully over him and began kissing at his earlobe, quickly making her way downward to his neck. A breathless sound was heard, and Hermione knew Snape had just experienced the shivers that she herself had felt so many times during the course of their flirtation.

Then, her tongue slid from his mouth and manipulated itself against the hollow dip in between his neck and clavicle.

For the first time, Snape moaned. It was a low sound that had escaped between his teeth; it had sounded almost like a growl. It turned Hermione on inexplicably, and did even more to her victim.

Hermione tongued every sensitive area of his neck that she could find, and Snape was visibly overwhelmed.

Snape felt hot all over, and in his sudden alertness, he waited for a moment between Hermione's licks and then caught her underneath her own jaw. He played with the skin, sucking it lightly between his lips.

But this was all that was needed. Hermione faltered for a mere second at the unexpected stimulation, and Snape rolled over on top of her, pinning down one of her wrists he had used as leverage in the process. He let go, but not before Hermione had made one of the most beautiful noises he had ever heard: she had sounded as if she were panting while simultaneously drawing out an elongated moan. He had apparently discovered a very special tidbit about Hermione, one that he would not easily forget.

Choosing to let his desires flow forth more than he had expected to be able to in response to this new knowledge, Snape nuzzled her carefully, as if she were an unwrapped present he did not want to tear just yet. Then, he bit her neck.

It was not very rough, but that was no matter: Hermione positively whined. Her face was placed right next to his ear, so each of her cries was heard by Snape with the utmost clarity. The combination of his hot breath on her neck and his entire body pinning her down against his bed was sure to elicit further, similar sounds from between those beautiful, full lips, if his new discovery was accurate…

And it was. Hermione sounded agonized when he tried the same trick on her as she had on him: his tongue was circling the dip in her neck, and she couldn't stay quiet. Her hand reached up with the intention of tangling itself in his hair, then dropped halfway during a throaty, primal moan as her predator concentrated on the ascension of his tongue's path. He licked his way up to her chin, tasting her, then began to titillate the neglected opposite side of her neck. Sure to keep his weight on her, he proceeded to bite her on this side just as he had done the other.

Her reaction was perverse: she immediately circled her right arm behind his back and clawed at him. Snape shuddered tremendously and was motivated to cover an even greater area of her sensitive spot in response. He did not remove her hand.

As he worked, she continued to scratch him, and although there was not much force behind her strokes, this bare, luminal feel of her sign of pleasure bolstered his already fierce determination to make her sensations otherworldly.

Her stray hand moved to his shoulder, pulling him downward, perhaps to unseat him from his position of power over her. Snape was not fazed; he blindly felt up her arm to her soft hand and grasped it tenderly, taking it from his shoulder and holding it on the bed just beside her supine, now-trembling figure.

Holding himself up temporarily with his knees and lifting himself from the bed to hover over her, his other hand found its way to her robes and languidly pushed them aside at the very top to reveal her right shoulder. Taking a moment to admire the triangle-shaped area bathed in a seductive orange hue that he had just exposed, he then started moving sideways from his established position the sensitive dip in her neck. His lips nestled against her painfully gorgeous shoulder, and he ran them horizontally over the intoxicating area.

Hermione thought better than to think she could speak clearly, but her body ignored this. His name came out as "Se—ahh…"

Whether she was pleading or not, Snape hardly cared; he knew she was enjoying exploring the novel sensations bestowed upon her, and if she said otherwise, she was simply in denial. Her soft (and occasionally not-so-soft) cries proved it, as did the light scratching of her nails at his back.

After grazing her shoulder several times back and forth, he enclosed his lips around a small portion of her flesh, taking it into his mouth and sucking on it.

Tears started forming in Hermione's eyes as she involuntarily heaved upward on the bed, a vain attempt at escape that she did not want. He had finally found the threshold past which she was nothing more than moaning, weak prey. She could do nothing but grab the back of his head as he sucked on her sensitive skin. The most unbearable butterflies she had ever felt saturated the pit of her stomach, and she felt an even more unsettling sensation only a few inches lower.

The hand Snape had used to push the upper portion of her robes aside now casually caressed and held onto her shoulder, the area he was still tormenting with excessive, sensual attention.

At last he released the skin from his mouth and drew back a few inches to observe his work. Hermione was certain to have a rather noticeable mark within a short period because of him. He smirked.

Snape looked into her face and asked with much humor, "Is all this too much for you?"

Hermione nodded, a single tear of overexertion leaking from her coffee-brown eyes, but her actions quickly implied she didn't care: she pulled his face back down into the crook of her neck. He understood the signal immediately and resumed the controlled torture of her nerve endings there.

While it all was too much, she still wanted more.

Snape suddenly heard Hermione whisper, "I'm all alone with you…" He interpreted this statement as heightening her fantasy, and acted accordingly:

"And completely helpless." Each word carried a hundred-pound weight that bore down into Hermione and made her body tingle. To accentuate the feeling, Snape brought his mouth down to where he had been teasing the sensitive area of her collar, then moved even lower. He planted his lips three inches below the spot, and the place where he now teased with his tongue could best be described as between her breasts.

Hermione began mewling. She brushed her fingers through his hair repeatedly as if to relieve the eustress she was now experiencing.

"Severus…more…" she pleaded, her eyes sincere and filled with desperation.

Snape continued to kiss and lick the area he now doted on. Though the sweet sound of his given name from between her lips enticed him, he did not go farther downward as she had wanted him to; he relished his immense power over her reactions, her emotions, her sensations, and was not willing to give it up so soon by listening to her demands.

Gently, he took both hands of hers in his and raised them above her head. He gave her the illusion of being taken over completely while he was in fact holding back a plethora of desires. He chose to instead bury his face into a place on her chest she found very private, but gave up to him after futile resistance. He navigated her skin in darkness, for his eyes were closed. The soft, globular shape he felt his mouth run over was obvious enough for him to pinpoint his exact location. Hermione whimpered.

He kissed both sides of her where her nipples were ought to be, then straightened. Hermione's current look could melt hordes of males, but not the man who had just spent much time developing a sense of power over her. He looked back at her with an equivalent expression, but with an auxiliary, confident sneer. Hermione struggled once, then pouted up at him.

Finally, Snape let her go.

It was as if a spell had been broken. Hermione took a deep breath and tried to compose herself, but to no avail.

Snape admired the sight. Her robes were haphazardly but beautifully pulled to one side, and the areas he had most enjoyed playing with were in plain view. Hermione felt a weak, teasing smile adorn her lips, and Snape kissed her cheek before removing himself from above her.

He held out his hand to help her up, but Hermione just looked at him. She did not take it, but instead visibly held him in contempt.

"You expect me to stand…after all that? And so soon?"

"Why shouldn't you be able to?" he questioned slyly.

Hermione's eyes rested. "Bloody bastard."

Snape laughed.

"Then you can stay here awhile."

"I will."

Snape kneeled back down onto the bed and settled himself next to Hermione, but left a few inches' distance separating them. He turned toward her and observed her body approach baseline, her mind approach tranquility. He reached out a hand and stroked her right arm gently.

Hermione faced him and met his eyes. The smile in them thanked him for such an experience.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked.

"Yes. I do like your bed," Hermione mused.

Snape chuckled, pleased she thought so. He had never heard another's opinion of his sleeping quarters.

"I wish there was less light in here, though," she continued after a moment of thought.

Snape instinctively rose to his feet and began extinguishing several torches so that only two dimly lit ones remained; enough to continue to admire her features without being overwhelming when closing one's eyes.

Hermione grinned simply. She had her head on one of his pillows, but further supported her head with a hand placed beneath it. Her free left hand moved to his right when he lied down once more, and he held it as he watched consciousness slowly slip from her face.

She fell asleep shortly thereafter, and Snape took in the visual for a few minutes more before resting his own eyes and succumbing to peaceful slumber.


	32. Chapter 32 - T

* 32 *

Hermione awoke to find herself in an almost entirely dark room: only the remnant of a pathetic flame was left. It had been lit today, though, she deduced. Just then, she paid more attention to the silhouette of the man beside her and saw that he was moving.

She smiled. "Good morning."

Snape stirred. He hadn't been fully awake, but now his dark eyes met hers. He gave her a look of admiration that reawakened the butterflies in her stomach.

His hand was on top of hers; hers had been in his the whole night. Even if it wasn't a full grasp, the thought that he had held onto a part of her all throughout the night made Hermione giddy.

Snape's eyes glanced up at the clock. They laid together in silence for a couple of minutes before he stated "We should be getting to breakfast about now. Since you weren't in your dorm last night or this morning, it is crucial for you to arrive earlier than usual."

Hermione nodded, despite being reluctant to follow his suggestion. She understood the gravity of the situation: if she was not only missing last night, but could also not be found this morning in her bed or at breakfast, a faculty member would likely be alerted, and she could not guarantee that it would be Snape. In fact, she could almost guarantee that it wouldn't. No Gryffindor (besides herself) took a great liking to the "overgrown bat".

She began to sit up, and Snape, suddenly wide awake, got off of his side of the bed and rounded it to hers. He took her hand and helped her down, purposefully keeping her unnecessarily closely huddled to him to do so. Hermione didn't mind in the slightest. When she was on her feet, she looked up to his face and rested her face in his neck before reluctantly breaking from his embrace and heading toward the Great Hall.

Snape replaced the signature cloak that had slipped from his shoulders the night before and followed Hermione shortly after her departure.

...

At breakfast, Hermione was yet again jubilant, and she had gotten no better at hiding it from her friends. Harry now only looked amused every time she looked outrageously excited, but Ron still gave her looks of absolute horror.

Snape and Hermione went the entire meal without glancing once at each other. They were absorbed in their thoughts and had finally taken to heart that they should learn to control their expressions—including the wandering of their eyes—as to evade suspicion.

Hermione had the entire day to herself besides lunch and dinner, to which she would be sure to turn up. Snape had classes to teach that day as it was a Friday. She wanted to spend more time with her Potions professor, but she also hadn't spent as much time with her friends as she used to as of late. She decided to rectify that by devoting the entire day to hanging out with Harry and Ron, just like old times. The three went outside under their favorite tree and sat down in the snow, looking out over the misty lake.

When he was settled, Ron asked, "So, what's been up with you, Hermione?"

He did not mean this in the way she initially took it, and her face briefly showed signs of pure horror before she realized her mistake.

"The same as always: homework and frequent visits to the library." Feeling as if she needed to apologize to them for being away so much (except during DA meetings), she said, "I'm sorry for neglecting you guys." Though she could easily say she had simply been in the library all this time, she could not bring herself to lie to her best friends like that. She already wasn't being completely honest with them.

"It's alright, we've been busy ourselves, too," Harry admitted.

"But the homework's been much harder without you around," Ron lamented seriously.

Hermione sighed. "Oh, Ron," was all she said, and shook her head. She slunk forward and put her elbows on her knees, staring at the lake. She still thought of Snape, but she pushed these ruminations to the back of her mind for now: she would have more time to think of and be with him later, but right now she was with her friends.

Ron commented that she looked possessed or high staring off into space like that. She rounded up enough snow to procure a snowball and threw it at him.


End file.
